


The Precipice of Reason, The Edge of Madness

by deannawol



Series: The Villainous Pirate and the Young Lieutenant [3]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Husbands (Web Series), Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Language Appropriate to 18th Century, M/M, Medical Procedures, Period Specific Ideas, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 112,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannawol/pseuds/deannawol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <b>or </b></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <b>The Further Adventures of Lieutenant Kristopher Allen<br/>and the Villainous Pirate Captain A. M. Lambert</b></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>---</p>
</div><br/>To die for love is easy; to live each day in the face of ridicule and despair for love is something far harder.<br/>Lieutenant Kristopher Allen, newly returned and disgraced in the eyes of the Navy he has given so much to serve, tries to find some peace between the life of a humble Naval Lieutenant and the familiar burden of duty and his family's expectations.<p>But the love of the dread Captain Lambert, the fearful pirate and tender lover, will not be denied. As Kris struggles to reconcile his duty and his heart, events are already underway that may still cost him everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wigs and Gowns

**Author's Note:**

> This story is intersperced with some of the best art that I have ever been gifted. VA_Bites has been amazing through this whole process. Whenever I flagged, she was there to show me a new piece of art and pulled my spirits right back up. She is an amazing artist - although, I don't have to tell you that as you'll discover it for yourself very shortly as you scroll through. The one thing that I would ask you to do when you see her artwork and find yourself breathless is to go to her page and leave her some feedback. She deserves it. Her masterpost of everything is [here](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html).
> 
> The Kradam Bangers mailing list is entirely responsible for some parts of this. You girls know who you are and I love each and every one of you. Even if you are all a little crazy. Normal's over-rated, right?
> 
> I would also like to say a huge thank you to my betas, Ara, Tacitus and CapnZebbie. Their painstakingly good betas and editing means that you won’t have to put up with the many errors that existed in the first draft. As always, any existing errors are my fault. I’ve had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that you enjoy reading it.
> 
> (ETA: If anyone wants to listen to my Pirates Writing Soundtrack, it's [here](https://www.dropbox.com/sh/yyarha3gx382cou/Y-kXeSL4Nq). Very musical. Very instrumental. Epic tracks. Without it, I wouldn't have gotten through writing this.)

 

 

[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

 

 

 

[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

 

  _ **21 st August 1710** _  
_**Charles Towne Admiralty, Charles Towne, Carolina** _

 

“Five minutes, gentlemen and ladies, five minutes.  Please be finding your seats.”

Lieutenant Kristopher Allen, former Acting First Officer aboard _The Hawk_ had no trouble finding a seat.  In point of fact, his was very nearly the best seat in the house, but what else could he expect given that _this_ was to be his court-martial.

Today’s proceedings, the last of the courts-martial being levelled against the officers and mates of _The Hawk_ , promised to be the best attended of all the trials.  Officers and ships had returned to port for the express purpose of attending what was sure to be a pointed demonstration of what happens when one cavorts with Pirates and forgets one’s duty.  The ‘ _Rogue’s Salute’_ was sounded shortly after dawn, rousing the port town of Charles Towne from its slumber and most of the noble gentlemen of the town were now seated behind him and watching him with beady eyes, and laying wagers.

Two months had passed since Kris and his men had made land back on the Carolina coast and since then, Kris had been subjected to the worst accusations that could be levelled at an officer and had become a figure of ridicule and mockery.  Kris' notoriety was second only to that of Captain Adam Mitchel Lambert, the man who owned Kris’ heart and soul, and the most feared pirate to sail the seas, the Master of _The Madness_.  Kris had been bound by law, his rank temporarily stripped from him the second he’d stepped foot on the dock and thrown in jail after the most cursory of conversations, with charges to be laid as soon as they had found enough paper on which to write the list down.  It would have been quicker, Kris thought, to simply pin the entire Articles to his chest and declare that he had sundered every last one of them. 

He sighed heavily, thinking back.  His father had come to him the first night that he’d spent in the jail and sat with him.  From the rumours and words that he’d been slipped, his father had found out that his incarceration had been at the behest of Admiral Gielham, the maternal uncle of Midshipman David Archuleta, with whom Kris had the fortune of serving on his last berth.  According to sources that his father would not name but trusted implicitly, the Admiral held Kris to blame for the loss of _The Hawk_ and with it, its most precious cargo, his nephew.  That wasn’t to say that his nephew was still lost, for indeed, he was not.  Midshipman Archuleta, or Archie as he preferred his friends to call him, was one of the men who had returned with Kris, safe, sound and happier than he had ever been, but the Admiral still held Kris to account for Archie’s misplacement.  Oh, not necessarily Kris himself, but Kris acting in his role of highest ranked officer, and it was in that role that he was being tried.

It had been Archie’s first time aboard ship and he had been given Kris as a mentor.   The lad had quickly become one of Kris' closest friends and had been by his side, his constant companion, during what was, for Kris, one of the most heart-sickening moments of his life.  The moment when Kris deliberately and with full knowledge of his actions separated himself from his heart and gave his lover a chance to escape a naval blockade that threatened to trap him, his ship and his crew in the port of New Providence and see him hanged for the pirate that, in point of fact, he was.  That moment, and indeed the days, weeks, months that had gone before, were the cause and consideration for Kris' court-martial and might well be the reason behind his being permanently shamed, stripped of his rank and cast from the Navy's ranks, or worse, the reason that he would be escorted to the gallows and hanged by the neck until the Lord took his spirit.

Even now, even as he sat in the courtroom, even as he faced expulsion from the institution he loved, the institution he had served faithfully since he was old enough to put foot on a deck, even as he faced death itself, part of him, a part deep inside, his very heart, sent forth silent hope that he would be simply dismissed, freed of his naval obligations and free to rejoin Adam.  He could admit that he was still innocent in the ways of love and lust, but Adam had touched the core of him and ignited a fire that burned there still.  Kris' soul cried out that they be reunited, that it be joined once again with its mate, but bureaucracy and self-imposed loyalty barred his way. 

He could not simply skip off to sea on the first available skiff or boat or merchant ship.  No.  His family relied on him to keep the Allen name strong.  His father had served many long years in the Navy until he had retired out due to infirmity.  Even now, his brother's career was on hold pending the outcome of this trial.  His father’s name did not carry quite the weight that it did prior to his rescue, and the man had put himself and his reputation under scrutiny to arrange parole for Kris.  “The duty of a father” had been the only explanation that he would offer but Kris knew that his father believed in him and trusted him.  He could no more disappoint him than he could disappoint himself.  His mother had cried into enough handkerchiefs that she could easily fill the ocean should some disaster befall the seas and drain them of every drop of water they held.

And then there was Katy, his affianced; a crux to his desired path back to sea and the arms of his lover.  She relied on his protection, the safety that simply being engaged to him offered.  If he broke off the engagement, then what would befall her?  She would be expected to return to her father's house where she would suffer under his relentless jibes and fists until he found a suitable match, the meaning behind that being until his gambling debts were mounted so high that only the sale of his daughter would settle them, and Kris could not leave her to that fate. 

She had been his friend for many years, the only one in a town where his father's reputation kept many from knocking on the door.  Status was everything in Charles Towne, and both business associations and marriages were based on little else, but Kris and Katy had met and become friends despite her lower origins.  Such origins mattered not a jot to Kris.  She had, in his eyes, risen far above the gutter where her father still dwelt and was every inch a lady.  He had been there for her through high tide and low, nursing her injuries and providing comfort when she needed it.  But even with all this shared affection, there had never been so much as a spark that could be called love.  No, that was not precisely correct.  There had never been _romantic_ love between them.  Katy was like a sister to him and continued to be, and she was the only one besides his crew who had any idea that something had happened to Kris on board _The Hawk_ , something wonderous and truly amazing, but even she did not know the whole story.  Much as he longed to tell her of his roving pirate, a stray word overheard at the wrong time would see him with a noose around his neck faster than he could spit and there would be no appeal.  Indeed, she had quickly surmised that there was more to his tale than the facts that he had recounted over the dinner table, and Kris would not put it beyond her to know that he had met a sweetheart across the waves, but she had said nothing.  He was grateful that she did not press the issue even though, no doubt, she ached to know more. 

Katy sat solidly behind him now in the officers’ daytime lounge which was serving as the court room, accompanied by Kris’ mother and father.  Her own father sat a half dozen rows further back, his eyes glinting with a barely contained glee as he waited for Kris to face absolute ruin.  Kris sighed and cast his eye over the gathered crew who stood around the walls of the room, not daring to be seen to take seats when their ‘betters’ were still standing about swapping gossip and discussing the likely outcome.  Enough details had been spilt during the preceding trials that it was equal money on his guilt, and that made Kris quite nervous.

Kris settled down in his seat and passed the time counting seconds as they flew past as he waited for his council to show up.  The man, a Judge-Advocate barely out of his childhood by the name of Nathaniel Hawthorne, was a slight, flighty man who lacked the constitution to stand aboard a deck.  Kris doubted that he could hold water if given a bucket.  Given that the Judge-Advocate for the navy’s case was an experienced Captain with no small number of successes under his belt, he could not help the trepidation that he felt.  He’d tried on multiple occasions to retain better counsel but every door had been slammed shut in his face.  It was just another sign that he was out of favour with Admiral Gielham. 

 



 

Books came crashing down beside him and Kris jumped, startled.  His hand automatically reached for his sword, forgetting that it had been confiscated, before Kris recognised Archie behind the spit and polish of a proper naval uniform and a brand, new powdered wig.  Kris frowned as Archie took the seat beside him and pulled a leather-bound journal and pencil from the pile that he’d brought with him.

“Your trial finished last Friday, Archie,” Kris reminded his friend, his voice low.

Archie blinked, “I know.  I was there.”

“Then, why, may I ask, are you here now?”

“Oh,” Archie’s eyes widened, and he blushed a little, “Ah, yes.  I may have forgotten to inform you – I’ve been terribly busy over this past weekend, studying and the like – I’ve released your counsel.”

“You’ve...”

What foundation was left to bolster Kris’ failing hopes crumbled and collapsed from under him.  Hawthorne had been a dolt, to be sure, but he’d been a trained Judge-Advocate, versed in the laws and Articles of War that Kris was about to be tried under.  He’d done his time in trials, and though his success rate could most likely be matched by a blind squid, he knew enough to know what questions to ask and when to raise an objection.  Without him, Kris may as well just walk to the town square right now and simply offer to build the scaffold himself.

“Aye,” Archie nodded.  “Never liked the man, and well, his grasp of the trial room could be equalled by any simple deckhand.  After a barrel of rum.  In a hurricane.  While...” he paused and frowned, “I think that metaphor may have gotten the best of me, but not to worry, Kris.  I’m here for you.  I’ve been reading up on similar cases and I’ve had Cook helping me find precedent.  He really is a wonder, you know, a veritable store of anecdotal record.  Between us, we’ve managed to work through a significant number of defences and I’m confident that I’ll be able to do a more than adequate job of defending you.”

Kris looked at his friend and, though he believed with all his heart that Archie knew his ways around the corridors of power here in the Admiralty, Kris did not know if he could bring himself to believe that Archie would be able to stand his ground at a court-martial.  Kris’ career was on the line, and his life.  Did he trust his friend enough to simply surrender to whatever defence he could mount?

Kris thought about that for a moment and then sighed, “I leave myself in your capable hands, Archie, and wish you all the luck in the world.”

What other option was there?

Archie fixed him with a stern glare, “Luck will have nothing to do with this, and don’t for one second think that you will not be participating in your own defence.  If you’ve already given up hope, then not even the good Lord himself could free you.  Now, sit up straight.  We need everyone here present to see that you are an officer and that you believe with your whole heart that your actions were correct and proper.”

“They were,” Kris protested, but sat up straighter, fixing the collar and cuffs of his uniform – still the borrowed uniform of Mister Bell, the first officer aboard _The Madness,_ as he hadn’t been permitted a chance to visit his tailor since his ‘rescue’.

“That’s right,” Archie nodded, and dived into the stack of legal volumes before him, diligently searching out something, “And best you remember that.  My learned colleague is going to try to frighten you with words and the threat of death, that’s his style, but you’re not to let anything show on your face.  Give him no reaction that he can use.  You’re an officer in Her Majesty’s Navy and every action you took was for the good of your men and of the Navy.  True or not, remember that.”

Kris looked at Archie, “But it is the truth.”

“Oh, yes,” Archie paused and gave Kris a smile so wide and so sincere that Kris would swear before God himself that the man beside him was no more than three years old.  “Well, there you have it.  There is no chance that we can lose.”

Kris wished that he could believe that as whole-heartedly as Archie did.  He didn’t have too much longer to dwell in his discomfort though, as his Judge walked through the side door to the room, preceded by a weedy clerk with a ratty uniform jacket.

“All to be upstanding for His Honour, Admiral Sir John Fletcher, presiding judge in the case of Her Majesty’s Navy versus Lieutenant Kristopher Neil Allen, Her Majesty’s ship, _The Hawk_.”

Admiral Fletcher was considered by many to be on the very cusp of his dotage.  The twice knighted Admiral - a slight irregularity with the paperwork, d'you understand? - was seventy-eight years old and had recently been declared no longer fit for active duty, that is to say, no longer fit for shipboard service.  Instead he spent his days sitting in the drawing room of the building, splitting his time equally between staring longingly out through the Admiralty windows and reclining in his seat, his jaw dropped and dreaming of younger days and glorious battles he had once been part of.  His memory was, at best, spotty and oftentimes a nurse was dispatched to ensure that his chin was free from the spittle that leaked freely from his slack lips.  But despite this, the man had been pressed into service once more and asked to convene a number of courts-martial, and no doubt given a list of verdicts that were to be delivered by his fellow, Admiral Gielham, Kris thought to himself.

Everyone stood until the Admiral had taken his seat and sat only when he had settled back to stare out over the room.  The clerk waited until everyone had quietened down again before continuing.  Shaking out a sheaf of papers, he started to read.

“Hereafter shall be a list of the charges exhibited against Kristopher Neil Allen, Lieutenant and Acting First Officer, of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship, _The Hawk_ , by Josiah Richard Gielham, Admiral, duly appointed to act in the stead of the First Lord of the Admiralty, Admiral Sir John Leake.”

The crowd waited with breath held as the clerk seemed to puff himself up under their scrutiny.

“First charge, a violation of Article One; For that he, the said Lieutenant Allen, being in actual service and full pay in the fleet, and Lieutenant of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_ , did, on the twenty-fifth day of May, 1710 and the first and eighth day of June, 1710, respectively neglect to cause the Lord’s Day to be observed, according to law, on board the said ship, in clear dereliction to his role as senior officer on duty on said days.”

There was a rumble around the room and Kris struggled not to roll his eyes.  He chanced a glance at Archie and was relieved to see that his friend had as little patience for the manner of the clerk’s pronouncements as he did.  Why start with the incidental charges when there were much more serious charges to lay?  When his life was on the line, did they really need pronouncements that resulted in no more than a garnished salary and forfeiture of privileges? 

The man attempted to force the assembled people to silence with just the power of his narrowed eyes, but failed miserably.  He pushed on none the less, “Second charge, a violation of Article Three; For that he, the said Lieutenant Allen, being in actual service and full pay in the fleet, and Lieutenant of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_ , did, on the twenty-fourth day of May, 1710, and each subsequent day until his rendezvous with Her Majesty’s ship, _Hotspur_ , without leave from the Queen’s Majesty, or the commissioners for executing the office of First Lord of the Admiralty, or his commanding officer, hold intelligence and conference with the enemy, a pirate known under the name of Adam Mitchel Lambert, Captain of _The Madness,_ aboard Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_.”

The name of _The Madness_ and her master were well known and the scandal of such a charge made the few women flush and fan themselves lest they faint dead away.  Kris could hear voices raised, crying out already that hanging was too good for the likes of those who confer with pirates.  But Kris kept his features schooled and met the charges with not so much as a flicker of emotion.

“Third charge, a violation of Article Six,” the man paused just long enough to sneer at Kris, “For that he, the said Lieutenant Allen, being in actual service and full pay in the fleet, and Lieutenant of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_ , did, on the twenty-fourth day of May, 1710, and each subsequent day until his rendezvous with Her Majesty’s ship, _Hotspur_ , relieve and assist the enemy by signing a bond with Adam Mitchel Lambert, Captain, _The Madness_ , binding the behaviour of the men under his command and preventing the retaking of _The Hawk_ and escape back to the port of Charles Towne or similar friendly port.”

It took Admiral Fletcher’s gavel and an amount of judicious hammering to quiet the room following that charge.  Kris had known at the time that signing Adam’s document, holding him as guarantor for his men’s continued good behaviour, would not sit well with the Admiralty, but he could not have predicted that it would be met with such scorn or outrage.  In his heart, he started to doubt himself, wondering what Captain Forester would have done in his situation.  Captain Forester, his mentor and Captain had been the yardstick that he used to measure his decisions.  The man had arranged for Kris to survive while he went to his own death.  Given the choices that Adam had offered him once he’d found out who Kris was, surely the captain would not have condemned him.  Surely signing to ensure the safety of his crew was better than throwing his life away over a point of principle?

“Fourth charge, a violation of Article Fifteen; For that he, the said Lieutenant Allen, being in actual service and full pay in the fleet, and Lieutenant of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_ , did, on the twenty-fourth day of May, 1710, desert from the said ship to the enemy, turning over said ship to the custody of Adam Mitchel Lambert, Captain, _The Madness_ , including in that all stores and provisions, colours, armaments and accoutrements as were documented in the Admiralty records prior to setting sail on the seventeenth day of May, 1710.”

By Kris’ reckoning there was only one charge remaining and then, then the trial proper could finally begin.  Kris cast up his prayers that the Admiral would listen with an open mind, or, given that he was currently sinking lower in his seat and listing at what had to be a most uncomfortable angle, that he would at least stay awake long enough to hear Kris’ defence before making his judgement.

“Fifth charge, a violation of Article Twenty Seven; For that he, the said Lieutenant Allen, being in actual service and full pay in the fleet, and Lieutenant of and belonging to Her Majesty’s ship _The Hawk_ , did, on the twenty-fourth day of May, 1710, negligently perform the duty imposed upon him by the Admiralty’s standing order concerning capture and situations relating to pirates, and failed to mount any effort to overpower said pirates and return the men and goods of the Navy to a friendly port.”

And there it was.  Five charges laid, and four of those carrying death sentences. Kris could see no grounds for optimism when faced by such odds. He wished, hoped, prayed, that he would get to see Adam’s face just once more before his execution.  He could go to the hereafter peacefully if he had but a moment longer with his love.  Damn fate and damn the navy, what had he done to deserve this except keep his men safe? 

The clerk coughed loudly and then again until the Admiral pushed himself up in his seat and opened an eye to glare down at Kris, “So, now you’ve heard the charges, boy, how do you plead?”

Archie answered before Kris could open his mouth, “Midshipman Archuleta speaking for the defence, should it please the court.  Lieutenant Allen pleads not guilty to all charges.”

“That’s all very good, Midshipman, but I need to hear it from the man standing in the dock there.  What say you, Lieutenant?” the Admiral glared down at both of them.

Archie nudged Kris and Kris drew himself up, “Not guilty, milord.”

“Good, good,” the Admiral smiled widely, “This should make for an interesting afternoon, yes?  Nothing like a hanging and then a quick snifter of cognac to make a man sleep soundly, is there?  Or at least that’s what I’ve found.”

The clerk coughed loudly, clearing his throat pointedly until Admiral Fletcher dropped that particular line of conversation. 

“Alright, let’s get this court-martial started,” the Admiral banged his gavel again, “Captain Grey, isn’t it?” The Judge-Advocate nodded, “Then start us off.  This fellow – Allen, isn’t it? – looks like a good enough sort.  Why do you want him hanged?”

“Hanged, sir, no, sir, but when an individual such as the man who sits before you now, an individual who flaunts naval law at every juncture, a man who sees no purpose to the rules and regulations by which honest and true men such as you or I live our lives, a man whose honour means as little to him as the dust on the ground, when a man such as this comes to our attention, we cannot hesitate but levy the most stringent charges against him no matter what the penalties,” Captain Grey pushed himself up to stand behind the table that held his notes and tomes of law.  “Admiral Fletcher, the facts of the case are simple and beyond refute.  Lieutenant Allen, by his own admission and by the testimony from previous courts-martial, handed his ship and his crew over to a most damnedable enemy, a pirate no less, and then, he did collude to keep the men bound by a piratical agreement even though they sought to free themselves from the tyranny of such a situation.”

“The rules of engagement when dealing with pirates are extremely clear,” Grey pressed on, turning slightly to take in the gathered crowd, “We give no quarter to them, and as is more relevant to this case, we take no quarter from them.  This is not a matter of dealing with the French, or Spanish, or Dutch, no indeed, for they at least have honour.”

Kris fought to keep his lip from curling as the Captain spoke his piece.  How dare Grey say that about a man like Adam, a man he knew nothing about, a man he was not fit to clean the boots of!  It took every ounce of Kris’ strength to hold back the profanities and only the knowledge that should he give in he would never again lay eyes on Adam kept him in his seat.

Captain Grey’s reputation was known throughout the Admiralty, but Kris had never before considered how coldly the man addressed his fellows.  Ice hung from his tone and the sneer he levelled at Kris would have turned a lesser man to stone, but Kris weathered the gaze and returned an impassive stare.  It was enough to let the much-lauded Captain know that Kris would not be intimidated by the likes of him.

When Grey finally took his seat, clearly confident that his case was already won, Archie pushed his chair back and stood, taking the time to brush an invisible mote of lint from his sleeve.  He made quite a production of the movement and ensured that every person, man, woman or dog, in the room was watching him, waiting for his first words, for his defence, and Archie did not disappoint.

“Bunkum.”

The crowd broke into a murmur at the pronouncement, talking to each other and, Kris presumed, questioning his council’s sanity.

“Complete poppycock!”

The resulting conversations were louder this time and Archie waited until it died down before beginning his justifications.

“Lieutenant Allen, in his capacity as commanding officer of a crippled ship, _The Hawk_ , selflessly put his life on the line to save the lives of every man amongst his crew.  Lieutenant Allen, in his capacity as commanding officer, upheld a sense of decorum and morality that would otherwise have been missing while dealing with a situation far outside the black and white words written in the many tomes of Naval Law that line the walls of this very building.”  Archie paused again, letting the crowd take in his words, “Lieutenant Allen, in his capacity as commanding officer, did something that, had we been facing the French, would have lauded him as a hero, but because the aggressor was ‘ _but a pirate_ ’, he stands here facing the gallows.”

He shook his head and turned to face the crowd, “Ladies, gentlemen and officers alike, you have sat here and listened to the multitude of courts-martial that have been convened since the crew of _The Hawk_ were returned to port.  You have heard fantastical feats and acts of courage, but none of them would have been possible if not for the well thought out plan of Captain Forester and the flawless execution of that plan by Lieutenant Allen.  Both men put the lives of their crew ahead of their own safety and wellbeing, and I intend to put their actions before the court and see that these ridiculous charges are where they belong...  In the midden heap.”

A cough from the Admiral cut Archie’s theatrics short.  Kris smiled at Archie’s enthusiasm and at the crowd’s uproarious cheering once he was done, mostly led by his crew it had to be said.  The Admiral seemed less impressed with the situation, banging his gavel down hard enough that Kris thought that the shaft of the gavel would surely splinter. 

“Not everything is a show to be found in the music hall, Midshipman Archuleta,” the Admiral’s eyes narrowed, “If there are any to make jokes today, then it shall be me who makes them.  The law and these proceedings are no laughing matter, or so it has been stressed to me in the strongest of terms.  You are here to defend the Lieutenant, best see to _that_ before you call the charges ridiculous.  I’ve seen men hang for less, you know?”

“Yes, milord, sorry, milord,” Archie, thoroughly chastened, took his seat to the amusement of his fellow counselor.

“Well, then,” the Admiral smiled down at the court, “Let us proceed then, shall we?  I have no wish to sit here all day.  I find the chair hard and the cushions flat.  Let’s skip to the important part.  Midshipman Archuleta, I believe that you wish to call the Lieutenant to the stand, do you not?”

“Yes, milord,” Archie stuttered, not expecting to be called on so soon again.

“Then let’s have him.  The crux of the matter, is he not?  Let’s hear his version of what happened then.”

“Admiral, I must object,” Captain Grey stood, “I have not had a chance to present my case yet.”

“What were you doing for the past half hour then?  Sit yourself back down, Captain,” the Admiral growled, “Last I checked, you weren’t sitting in my seat, boy.  Seems to me that we need a plan of attack, something to work from, so we’re going to start with the Lieutenant’s story.”  He held up a hand as Grey made to say something, “Oh don’t worry so, Captain, I’ll give you a chance to poke holes in it in due course.”

That seemed to placate Grey and he sat.  Kris didn’t look at him as he stood and moved to the chair set aside for witnesses, beside the Admiral.  The clerk watched him every step of the journey but Kris paid him no mind, just moved to take his place and swear his oaths.

Archie started off predictably, going over the happenings from when they left port, the battle with _La Rochelle_ and the capturing of the ship and then neatly leading to how _The Madness_ captured _The Hawk_.  The crowd looked on, quiet as they listened to Kris reliving his injuries, his first meeting with the dread pirate captain.  Not even Archie interrupted as Kris told the story to the best of his recollection.  It wasn’t until Kris approached his agreement with Adam that anyone gave him cause to pause.

"By Jove, lad, did I hear you proper?  You signed contract with that knave for sake of your men?  Damn and blast, such things are just not done.  What do you think to do, show up every dog officer in her Majesty's Navy?  Queen's teats man, but you've made an old Admiral laugh."

The Admiral's choice of words sent ripples of outrage through the crowd. Women fluttered their fans in an overblown display of nerves.  Kris’ eyes went to Katy, who sat beside his mother, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips.  He knew that rather than being scandalised, she was amused by the situation, the theatrics.  To her, this was better than any _Grande_ show with made up players and see-through plots.  Unfortunately, this was no play and the curtains would fall only with the Admiral's verdict, but even as he met her eye, she slid her gaze to the side, to the Admiral before looking back at Kris once again.  He knew her to be an excellent judge of character and her none-too-subtle message bid him to take another look at the Admiral.  He looked to the older man and saw the same hint of a smile on his features that Katy hid behind her hand.  The man seemed to enjoy putting a shark amongst the fishes.  Kris met his fiancée’s eye and she nodded her head a fraction before giving into the pressure of her peers and holding her fan before her face and leaning into Kris’ mother to protest such language. 

Considering what he saw, Kris could only conclude that man was, in Kris’ opinion, more shrewd than any here gave him credit for and a damned sight more canny than Admiral Gielham could have guessed.  As Kris chanced another look at him, there twinkled behind his eyes, the smallest hint of amusement and a quality that Kris could not name, but one that he had seen time and time again in the eyes of Captain Forester.  Cunning would be the closest word for it but that was not true by itself.  No, it was deeper than that.  Deeper by far than that, and Kris clung to it as a shred of hope.  Perhaps the outcome of this court martial was not already decided.  If he could but get this man on his side, he might yet be saved.

"Damn and blast,” the Admiral’s features were now schooled into a frightfully dour visage as he banged his gavel hard enough to make the wooden sound block that was its base jump up a good inch from the bench, “Do I need to clear this room or can you behave in a manner that does not remind me of a litter of newborn pups, yapping at sunbeams and urinating on my wife's prized Azaleas?  Now, son, you were saying something, weren't you, about something?"

This time Kris did not quite believe the man’s innocent look, but he proceeded anyway, “As I was saying, milord, Captain Lambert placed a document in front of me to sign and after stringent negotiations, and his acquiescence to a goodly number of my demands, I signed it and proceeded to demand a whole ship congress with my men to inform them of our negotiations.  To lay down our operating orders, as it were.”

“And these demands,” Archie asked, “What were they?”

Kris cast his mind back, not wanting to miss a single item lest that be the difference between turning the tide and not, “If my life was to be held forfeit then I reasoned that any advantage I could raise would help them.  As such, I put it in the provisions that if any man were accused of a crime that I would have opportunity to mount a defence for him.  I did not trust the pirate captain and did not wish to see my men unfairly punished to prove the apparent superiority of the pirate’s position.”

Archie nodded as he listened, and Kris continued, “The second provision that I made was to limit the number of the crew under my flag.  Part of Lambert’s ploy to capture us was to seed our crew with men of his own, leaving us ripe for the picking when he happened upon us.  I wanted it clearly understood that these men were pirates before they signed onto _The Hawk_ as crew and made to draw naval wages and would be considered pirates henceforth.  Following that, there were the usual provisions for fair treatment, good quarters, reasonable food and drink as is the duty of any officer in command of men.”

“Of course,” Archie smiled, “One more question if you will, Lieutenant Allen.  Why did you make your agreement and the additional provisions public to the crew?”

“For their protection,” Kris answered honestly, “As I said, I did not trust the pirate captain and wished all men to know what they were entitled to.  He had acted as a gentleman and said that he held honour dear.  I hoped that should something untoward happen that I would be able to intervene on my crew’s behalf and play upon his so-called gentlemanly status to force him not to go back on his word.  It was, I know, a rather risky option, but Lambert had not given any indication that he sought to break the treaty.  Indeed, we had given him quite the bloody nose during the engagement and he needed our numbers just to sail the ship and complete repairs.  I had not wholly ruled out the option to retake the ship but with our diminished company, I judged it best to wait until the repairs were done and the ship not in danger of sinking.” 

The Admiral sat back in his seat and laughed, "Never would have happened back in my day.  Of course, back then we scarce had two planks to nail together and call a ship, and we had to entice our port sweethearts to sew our colours from their petticoats.  Grand old time that was, where men were men and women were feisty.  Why I remember one time, back when I was docked at London...”  The clerk coughed and the Admiral paused to look down his nose at the officious man, not a shred of mercy in his expression.  "Damn it man, you'd best see a surgeon about that tickle.  Getting worse it is.  You'd want to watch that 'fore someone has to take a knife to you."

Kris was coming to like Admiral Fletcher.  Whether it was his unconventional manner or the fact that he reminded him of Captain Forester, he wasn’t sure but the man had a turn of phrase that was making the ladies blush.

Kris barely hid the smile on his lips as the clerk’s mouth snapped closed.  Admiral Fletcher turned back to Kris, leaning close and whispering – though not quite quiet enough that the room couldn’t hear, “Mangy men, pirates.  No sense of hygiene, you understand.  Comes from their origins, I expect,” the Admiral considered for a moment, “Although, I've heard there's a new sort out there, clean ones.  This pirate, the one who had the best of you, was he one of them?  Was he clean?  Did he wash or was he one of them dogs who only wash if a rainstorm hits them just so?”

Kris’ mind went immediately to Hornigold, a pirate so vile that Kris had been tempted to nail the man in a rain barrel with several bars of soap and then set the barrel rolling down a long steep hill.  Kris knew that Hornigold, and men of his ilk, were what the Navy figured for pirates, but Adam was so far above scum such as those, that Kris had to grasp this opportunity to tell the Admiral a little of Adam’s character.

“He claimed himself a gentleman, Admiral,” Kris began, “as I’ve said before, and seemed to pride his honour above all else, much as any gazetted officer would.  That, and that alone, was the only reason that I agreed to sign a parole with the man.  He washed, sir, every morning and evening as is my recollection.  Changed for dinner each evening, also.  Even for his pirating ways, I would wager that he had a solicitous upbringing prior to his disenfranchisement with rules and proper society.  ”

“Ah hah,” the Admiral nodded, “I see.  Well, that’s not so bad then.  A lot of French couldn’t be bothered with washing, you know.  Desperate habit that.  If you’re going to face the enemy, then best you be washed.”

Kris chanced a look at Archie and at Grey, and saw that the latter was almost apoplectic, while Archie looked on amused, content to give the Admiral enough time to speak his mind given that he appeared to be, if not on their side, then at least not opposed to them.  Grey, however, seemed to be perched on the edge of his seat, but one could hardly object to the presiding judge without prejudicing him against your case, and Grey was not that stupid.

Archie’s questioning continued with only a few interruptions from the Admiral and Kris was allowed to tell his story, trying to impress upon both the Admiral and the crowd the reasons that he had for agreeing to sign what would usually be deemed a rather fair agreement, or would be if the other signature were a man of naval blood rather than a pirate. 

Though Kris knew that this day would be harrowing, a dissection of both his character and his career, he had never imagined that simply telling the truth could be so draining.  Every word from his mouth had to be weighed before he let it loose into the public record, and clarifications had to be immediate before either the Admiral or Captain Grey could misconstrue his meaning.  It was a game of chess, and one that, three months ago, he would never have been able for.

The crowd was fickle as it turned out, nodding along to one part of the testimony only to jeer at others, and the Admiral had to call for order several times before he finished telling his tale, making sure to cover everything from their capture right up until they were reunited with the Naval forces at New Providence.  Archie handed him a glass of water once he was done recounting and declared himself to be finished with Kris for the time being.

Kris clasped his hands together in his lap as he waited for Captain Grey to step forward for his cross examination.  His questioning was rough, brutal even, but Kris dealt with the questions easily.  There were no outright lies to remember, nothing so crude, simply omissions and an artful use of language.  He had practiced the story time enough in the confines of his room, refining the language so that it cast no suspicions on his relationship with Adam.  But that did not stop Grey from trying to trip him up with half-spun conjecture and rumour.

"There were reports that _The Hawk_ under the mastery of Pirate Lambert engaged a pirate ship and did attack them.  Further to that, it has been said that you were a key figure in that attack.  What say you to that?"

"A key figure?” Kris blinked, genuinely surprised at the question, “I think your reports are grossly inaccurate, sir.  I was ordered to remain below decks and was contained within the Captain's ward room without so much as my sword to defend myself.  The justification for that was that Captain Lambert and his officers feared my presence on deck and the consequences that they would face should I attempt to issue orders, as I would surely do."

“As you would surely do,” Grey repeated the words in a mocking tone, “As you would surely do?  I think not, Lieutenant, for you had certainly shown no compunction to act earlier in the voyage.  In all the testimony in all the courts martial that we have heard, never once was it intimated that you intended to do other than to go along with whatever orders Lambert put to you.”

Kris’ eyes narrowed, “Neither was it intimated that I became Captain Lambert’s lapdog.  I held myself as an officer while aboard.  I counselled the men on their duty.  I pressed Captain Lambert for information when I could, which I duly passed on to the Captain of _The Hotspur_ when we were rescued.  Captain Lambert, in his role as Captain of _The Madness,_ made it clear that he required my presence where he could keep watch over me, as would any Captain in the British Navy should he find himself holding parole of any officer of foreign flag.  What point is there to having a hostage if said hostage is free to wander the ship, plotting mutiny or escape, and giving orders counter to the Captain’s own?  A ship cannot run divided, Captain Grey, and as such, I was kept close and watched constantly.”

Kris leaned forward, his voice rising in annoyance with Grey’s accusations, “You seem to think, and indeed you would have this court think, that we had a fine old time aboard _The Madness_ , and yes, I do call it _The Madness_ because when it was won, it was clear that we were not in the majority.  For all your reckoning, we were still grossly outnumbered aboard, between the knaves that signed on under false colours and the original pirate crew, we would each have put down two men or perhaps three and, as the entire Navy knows, pirates do not fight as gentlemen.  Many of our number were carrying injuries from both the fight with _La Rochelle_ and from the fight with _The Madness_ , myself included.  We were not in fit state to mount a strong defence. So instead, I went along with Captain Forester’s plan which held at its heart the lives of the men.  And yes, at the start, it did not sit well with me, but I came to understand the Captain’s reasoning soon enough, and made it my duty to ensure that the men would be free to return to the Navy that they loyally serve when first they had the opportunity.”

“Do you not think it cowardice to simply hide behind the orders of a dead man?” Grey sneered.

Kris could hear the screech of Archie’s chair legs as he jumped to his feet, already shouting “Objection”, but Kris wanted to answer the question put to him and raised his voice to speak over Grey, Archie and the riotous crowd.

“Cowardice?  No.  At the time, I considered it my duty and I still do.  To do otherwise would be tantamount to mutiny, no it _would_ be mutiny.  To my shame, there are times that I truly wish that I had not been placed in that situation, but I was.  I feel that I did honour to the last orders of a truly noble Captain, Captain Forester.  If you wish to further sully the man’s name, then go ahead, but none here will thank you for it, least of all me.  I had the honour and privilege of serving with the man since I was an ensign.  Captain Forester is the very definition of a naval hero and I only wish that his life had been spared, along with the lives of every man put to sea in the wreckage of _The Madness_.” 

“Well said, boy, well said,” Admiral Fletcher looked down at Kris and nodded his approval.  He turned then to Grey with a chill to his words, “Whip of a boy you are to disparage your betters, man, and you never serving a day on board ship if I had my guess.  You need to watch who you’re speaking about or you’ll find yourself staring at prison bars.”

Grey nodded curtly and continued his cross examination.  Kris answered the questions easily and couldn’t help but note that Grey neatly avoided anything sensitive until finally, with both sides satisfied, Kris was dismissed back to his seat beside Archie, and Archie called his next witness.  Kris glanced over his shoulder at the list of witnesses he planned to call and barely kept his jaw from dropping when he saw nearly every surviving and present member of _The Hawk_ ’s crew listed there.  Surely he couldn’t mean to call each and every person on that list...  They would be here for weeks.  But Archie pressed on, calling crewman after crewman, and Kris had to marvel at the testimony that they gave.

He had known that he was well liked by the crew but to hear it in such bold terms here on the court-martial stand was another matter, and under sworn testimony to boot.  Failure to hold service on the Lord’s Day was brushed aside quickly by statements saying that Kris kept Adam engaged, giving them the freedom to worship as they would normally have done, with Archie leading the services in Kris’ stead.  They walked a fine line between perjury and the truth, as had Kris himself, but they were committed to ensuring that Kris was seen to be, as Cook put it, the officer that he was.  Kris felt his cheeks flush on several occasions and tried to hide by looking at the surface of the table or at the textbooks that Archie had open in front of him, but the Admiral kept catching his eye and twinkling at him. 

Grey brought forth his witnesses, which were not so much witnesses but naval officers, who spoke at length on the vestiges of tradition and duty.  These witnesses were easily countered by Archie with one single question; though asked in many different ways, it had to be said: “And in what capacity were you serving aboard _The Hawk_?”

The first man stuttered, the second tried to refute that one did not have to be there to know what was ‘the proper thing to do’.  The Admiral had something to say on that and Grey was consigned back to his seat and the time came for closing remarks.

Kris' attention, it had to be admitted, drifted a little during both speeches.  He knew what the content of both was to be; Grey would draw him as the Devil incarnate while Archie would paint him with wings and a halo ready to be raised to fly with the Hosts above, but in truth, Kris was just a man and simply wished for a verdict.  Kris turned his thoughts upwards, praying to whatever guardian angels might be listening that the Admiral would be swung by the arguments made here today rather than the threats of Admiral Gielham. 

He looked back over this shoulder to his parents, and to Katy who again made sure to catch his eye and convey her own message of hope.  His mind turned, then, to Adam, to his love, who sailed somewhere beyond the horizon, hopefully safe and sound and living free as any man could.  Would that he were here, behind Kris, smiling that enigmatic smile and plotting what to do should the verdict go against Kris.

It was the Admiral’s gavel that drew him back to the present.  The court room quietened, waiting on baited breath for the Admiral’s verdict.  Kris found himself scarcely daring to draw breath.  Indeed, Archie caught his arm and held it firm as he perched on the edge of his seat.  The page in front of him was opened to appellate procedures and how to raise an appeal.  He could hear his mother behind him, murmuring prayers and pleading with whatever angels were listening to have mercy on her boy. 

The silence grew to be untenable and finally, Kris looked up and took a shaky breath before meeting the Admiral’s gaze, holding it.  If he was to be judged, then he would be judged, and stand by whatever decision came.

The Admiral started slowly, drawing out his words as he spoke, “As I have neither the remembrance of all the words that were said nor the inclination to hear it all again, I find you not guilty of the charges, all the charges, but it is my recommendation that you not do it again, young man.”

The courtroom exploded in a cacophony of voices, both joyful and not.  Grey was on his feet protesting the verdict in the most emphatic terms.  Kris’ mother was on her feet also and pulling Kris to her to hug him close as his father’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.  Katy stood beside him, her lips curled up in a smirk as if she had known all this time that the Admiral would find in his favour. 

Cheers came from the seamen at the back of the room and Kris looked beyond his family to see _The Hawk_ ’s former crew, peppered with more than a few pirates from _The Madness_ who had been left behind in New Providence when the navy had blockaded the port.  Kris had taken them in as his crew and saved them from the gallows.  It warmed his heart that they cheered just as loudly as the crew who had been with him for years.

And then there was Archie, who looked positively shocked, just sitting there in his seat and staring ahead as if he were in a daze.  Kris slapped him on the back and shook him from his stupor.

“I did it.  _We_ did it.  We really did it,” Archie’s words were almost lost in the noise and Kris couldn’t help but smile.

“I never doubted you, Archie.”

 


	2. Polite Conversation and Pleasant Evenings

 [](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)  


 

  
_**21 st August 1710** _   
_**Charles Towne Admiralty, Charles Towne, Carolina** _   


 

In the wake of the judgement, it seemed as if everyone in the town wished to shake Kris' hand, and assure him that they had never thought him capable of such crimes as those with which he had been charged.  It was all Kris could do not to laugh in their faces for these were the very people who had, as recently as this morning, declared that hanging was too good for the likes of him and laid money against his innocence.

His father stood with him but duty called him away all too soon and with a final squeeze of the shoulder and a tearful embrace from his mother, his parents left him to gather the congratulations with only Katy for support.  Well, that is to say, Katy, Archie and the majority of his crew including Cale and Cook, the latter still hovering at the back of the room nervously holding his hat as he waited for Archie to finish.

Katy’s hand slipped down his arm until their fingers touched as he smiled at her.

“Well, now, did I not tell you that the trial would turn out well?” she asked, mock glaring at him for his lack of faith.  “You should listen more to my boundless wisdom and not worry so much.”

“Of course, you are correct,” Kris smiled, “as always.”

“And there is a well trained response if ever I heard it.  Remember that, Lieutenant, as you will need it many times after your wedding,” a woman’s voice came from behind him.

He turned to see who was speaking.  Beside Archie there stood a mere wisp of a woman, delicate in constitution but with enough of the same traits in her face that there could be no doubt that this was Archie's mother.

“So I have been told many times by both my mother and my fiancée, ma’am,” Kris smiled a warm and genuine smile to the woman, “I believe you have me at a disadvantage.”

“I highly doubt that, Lieutenant Allen,” the woman’s lips curled into a smile, but there was a predatory edge to it, a hint of a worldly intelligence that was not present in many women.

Kris bowed his head politely, “Mrs. Archuleta, I presume?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.  My David has spoken very highly of you since his return,” she looked to her son and smiled as his cheeks pinked, “I am most thankful that your trial ended the way that it did.  I would have hated not having the chance to thank you for keeping my son safe.  He is all that I have in the world, well, apart from my brother, and I fear that every day that he was at sea, I must have prayed from sun up to sun down for his safe return.”

“David is a fine officer, ma’am, and I am glad that he was assigned to _The Hawk_ with me.  A better man and a finer midshipman, I couldn’t have hoped to have with me during those trying times,” Kris assured the woman. “Without his help and friendship since we were rescued and without his intervention today, I fear that I would be facing consequences most dire.”

Archie was blushing bright enough to light the room, “What else could I do for a friend?”

“A lot of men wouldn’t have put their reputation on the line to stand at my defence, and well you know it,” Kris brushed his modesty aside. “In truth, I don’t believe that there is any other officer in the Admiralty who could have done the sterling job that you did here today and for that you have my eternal thanks.”  He smirked, “Although it would have been nice to have been consulted before you dismissed my counsel.”

“Yes, well, I...” Archie stammered.

Katy laughed, “I owe you my thanks also, Midshipman Archuleta.”

“Well, ma’am it was...” Archie started, but Katy had already moved forward to show her gratitude in an entirely different way, as expected by any who knew her. 

She embraced him and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, polite and proper and barely straining the bounds of propriety.  Archie stuttered out some sounds but they did not even approach a semblance of real words and his cheeks positively flamed red.  Kris hid a smirk behind his hand as Katy returned to his side and linked her arm with Kris’.  Even Archie’s mother was amused by the scene, laughter lines visible as the corners of her eyes crinkled. 

“Might I impose upon you for a moment of your time, Lieutenant?” Mrs. Archuleta asked once Archie had started to calm down a little.

“Of course,” Kris turned to Archie, “David, if you would, could I impose upon you to look after Katherine?”

“Kristopher, dear, I am not some wilting flower that must be guarded against every bee.  I have a sting of my own, you know,” she flicked her fan up to cover her smile.

“I am well aware of your sting, my dear, but in company like this...” he trailed off, leaving her to finish the sentence herself.

In halls such as these, Kris had very few true friends, thanks to the verdict which would not sit well with the higher echelons.  Katy nodded and took Archie’s arm, smiling at him.

“So you are the David that I have heard so much about.  Kristopher neglected to tell me how handsome you were when he regaled me with your heroic deeds.  Tell me, are you betrothed yet...”

Kris could barely contain his laughter at Archie’s shocked expression, or at the desperate look he cast back at Kris.  Kris, for his part, looked to the lady standing before him and bowed his head.

“You wished to speak to me, ma’am?”

She looked around and then beckoned him away from the few people who were left, including Captain Grey, who glared at him when Kris looked his way.  Once they were clear, and no one within hearing distance, she beckoned him to stand an inch closer so that she might keep her voice low.

“You are an intelligent man,” she began. “David has told me as much through his stories and tales, so it will come as no surprise to you that losing _The Hawk_ has bloodied the nose of the Admiralty here in Charles Towne.  I tell you this only because you kept my David safe and brought him home to me and, for that, I owe you favours beyond telling.  The Admiralty are sending an overseer to audit the books, so to speak, and that has the Admiral worried.  This trial was supposed to end with an entirely different verdict.”

Kris nodded.  He was all too aware of that.  Rumour chased its way through the corridors here about faster than truth, but there were no rumours that did not carry with them a grain of something true.

“There are pressures from various quarters to find a scapegoat for the entire debacle, and lacking Captain Forester’s presence, God rest his soul, that scapegoat had to be you; but a wily old man with no love for my brother decided on a justice of his own and thankfully you are free,” she smiled. “Were I you, I would invest in a pound of finest grade tobacco to be sent to Admiral Fletcher as soon as you can arrange, and perhaps a bottle of good Cognac.  I hear tell that he is quite partial to such fancies.”

Kris made note of her words and resolved to send the items to the man the very next day with a note of thanks, but something troubled him about her words.  He was not in the habit of having others simply deliver information of this nature to him, not without a significant cost associated with it; a favour, a debt repayable at the worst possible time.  He did not doubt that she loved her son, not at all, but Mrs. Archuleta seemed a little too willing to share her knowledge with him.  Kris wondered what game she was playing with his future as a pawn.

“Your next days and weeks, and longer, still will be fraught with battles here within the Admiralty.  Do not get disheartened,” she smiled, “After all, what is a little politics to a man who bravely faced down a pirate horde?”

“I’m afraid it’s a game in which I am not well-versed,” Kris admitted.

“You’d best learn then, and quickly.”  She looked over Kris’ shoulder and her fan flapped quickly in front of her face.

When Kris looked to see what she had noticed, he saw a man striding towards them.  He wore the livery of a servant, a black jacket with gold piping and clean, white britches.  On his head there was a snowy white wig, wound tightly into neat little rows.

“Madam, the Admiral sent me to accompany you back to the mansion,” the man spoke in a neutral voice, but his eyes were narrowed at Kris.

Kris, wishing desperately to cover their previous conversation, looked around to the window opened a fraction beside where they stood.

“Mrs. Archuleta felt a trifle ill after the stuffiness of the room,” Kris explained, “Be mindful of that as you escort her home.”

The man nodded, but Kris had the feeling that he did not believe a single word that Kris spoke.  Mrs. Archuleta, for her part, played to the lie.

“Not only my son’s saviour, but my own,” her smile was visibly forced and her hand was clutched to her throat, fluttering like the most delicate of birds, “I shall join you in a moment, Jenkins.  Wait for me by the door.  I wish to take a moment or two longer here beside the window before I try travelling.”

The man nodded and stepped back, moving a little distance away, but did not retreat to the door as instructed, Kris noted.

"My brother’s spies are everywhere,” she said as she watched the man’s retreat.  She seemed bitter for the briefest moment, but when she looked up at him again, there was not a trace of it on her face. “Lieutenant Allen, you will, of course, come to dinner at our house tomorrow night, won't you?  My David has done little else but regale me of the various tales of your last voyage, and I would love to hear your interpretation of the events.  Please.  I shan't take no for an answer.  The offer extends to your family and your fiancée also, of course."

Archie’s mother was an enigma to him and dinner would give him a chance, possibly, to figure her out.  He held Archie in great regard and while ordinarily he would, in an instant, agree to join him for dinner, there was the matter of his uncle to deal with.  Kris had no intention of sitting across the table from the man, and so Kris tried to decline as politely as he was able.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure what plans my mother..."

Mrs. Archuleta fixed him with a firm gaze, "Lieutenant, do you have any inkling of what life is like for a woman ensconced in an Admiral's household?  When the eyes of Charles Towne, and indeed London, are upon you, there is little time to forge friendships."

"I'm not sure that I understand, Mrs. Archuleta," Kris started, but she held up a hand to stall his words.

"I fear we share a similar problem, your mother and I.  Circumstances, that is to say, the men we chose to have in our lives, hold such station as to raise us above the common women of the city with little to do other than run our households and plan the lives of our children."

There was a loneliness in her eyes that cried out to his soul, and killed any thoughts of deception before they had the chance to fully form.  Possibly this was why she had spoken as she had earlier.  Maybe, by giving him information, sensitive information, she hoped to press upon him and, maybe more importantly, his mother for a measure of friendship.  He would have to ask his mother later.  She was the truly social one in the family.

Kris smiled, and agreed to her request, "Then, ma'am, I shall, in the interest of saving my friend from further machinations, agree a tentative engagement tomorrow evening.  I'll send a man to confirm as soon as I've spoken to my mother."

“Wonderful,” she smiled, “I’ll await your confirmation.”

Kris bowed his head as she took her leave.  She had taken no more than two steps when she turned back to him. 

“The Admiral will have to make his apologies, unfortunately.  I believe he has an engagement tomorrow evening, but I trust that will not disrupt our plans overly.”

“I hope not, ma’am,” Kris answered, “Until tomorrow evening.”

“Until tomorrow,” she smiled and turned.

Jenkins fell into step behind her.  Kris watched them go and replayed the conversation in his mind.  He still wasn’t sure what to make of her assertions but he did appreciate the information.  The information itself wasn’t unexpected by any measure; Kris had known that the Admiral had been angling for him to take the blame, had even stacked the proceedings against him.  It seemed as if his fight was only beginning.

The room had emptied now except for Katy, Archie and Cook.  Of Cale there was no sign, however hard Kris looked.  He hadn’t seen Cale outside of the trials since they’d made port, and Kris missed his friend and his solid stance on every problem.  For all Kris knew, Cale had already been assigned to a ship and was heading straight back out to sea.  Kris sighed and tried his best to put Cale’s immediate departure from his mind.

Katy was laughing openly at something Cook was saying.  Kris had no idea what they were talking about but the gestures were telling a story all of their own.

“Oh my word,” Katy laughed, “Mister Cook, you have quite a way with words.  You should write your tales down.”

Cook flushed and looked away, clearly embarrassed at the praise.  But true to form, he was the first to notice Kris making his way over.

“Congratulations, sir,” Cook greeted him, sobering a little.

Kris nodded in acknowledgement, “I believe I owe you thanks as well.”

“No sir, I just fetched the books.  Lieutenant Archuleta did the reading,” he smiled.

Katy stepped around to take his arm again, “Kris, you must invite your friends over for luncheon.”

Cook shuffled his feet nervously, but Archie accepted the offer with enthusiasm.

“Kris, your mother is expecting us for afternoon tea.  If we’re late again...” Katy smiled and let the words trail off. 

“Of course.  You’re right,” Kris agreed.  “Cook, where are you staying?  I’ll send you the details for lunch.”

“Well, sir, there weren’t any positions available on board ship while the trials were still going on so, um, I found alternate employ,” Cook looked down at his feet, his voice scarce above a whisper, “I’m...  Well, sir, I’m...”

“I found work for him at my uncle’s house,” Archie said, a little embarrassed. 

“There’s no harm in that,” Katy said, putting the men at ease, “A good man at your back is worth more than gold.  Trust is something you can’t buy, you know, and it’s obvious that you two have a strong bond, but a troublesome voyage will do that.  At least, that’s how Kris explained it to me, something about ‘the brotherhood of the sea’ and shared trials.  I can’t remember his phrasing exactly.  I just don’t have a head for such things.”

Kris raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.  He wasn’t exactly sure why Katy was playing to her assumed type; a doe-eyed beauty with no brains for anything barring fabrics and petticoats.

“Well, if you are staying at his uncle’s house, then we shall see both of you tomorrow evening.  Mrs. Archuleta has invited us for dinner and I’ve tentatively accepted, pending my mother’s plans,” Kris smiled, “But for now, we must take our leave.  Mothers, as I am sure Archie will agree, are best not kept waiting.”

With a kiss to the back of Katy’s hand from both Archie and Cook, they took their leave.  Katy took his arm as Kris escorted her out and headed for home.  They were no more than a few hundred yards from the Admiralty when he noticed that there was a man tailing them, non-descript, and dressed in the browns and creams favoured by the many businessmen in Charles Towne. 

Kris kept an eye on their unexpected chaperone, for he could do little else while still under the eye of the Admiralty, but the man stayed back far enough that he was not an immediate threat.  Kris caught the thought and shook his head.  He was surely just being paranoid.  After all, who would want to harm them here in Charles Towne?  The answer came unbidden to his mind.  The Admiral.  Could the man be one of the Admiral’s men?  If so, Kris couldn’t simply act, not without serious repercussions.

As they continued towards home, Kris expected some comment from Katy on the trial but she was quiet, worrying at her lip a little as was her habit while lost in thought.  Kris waited patiently for her to reach whatever conclusion she was approaching.  They had made it half the distance home before she finally spoke.  The man was still behind them, following at a constant distance.

“David, Archie as you call him and Mister Cook seem to have a very close friendship,” she looked up at Kris as she said it, her expression guarded, “Am I correct to assume that said friendship is the type that one would be best not speaking of in polite society?”

Kris blinked and stammered out his answer, “Really, Katy, such thoughts.  I truly do not know where you find them.”

“I have eyes, Kris, and you’d be amazed at the gossip one hears when one is merely treated as a piece of furniture.  My father knew a man once who was like that,” she paused, then shook her head, “No, not like that.  He was a brute and claimed to use it as a pacification technique amongst those who defied him in the field.  A barbarian of a man who made my skin crawl, if I am honest.  No, not like that at all, either of them.  They are sweet about it really, but you have to be watching them closely to see it.”

This conversation was starting to worry Kris, and not just because of their constant companion following on behind.  It was treading ever deeper into waters where he did not want to venture.  He had known that Katy possessed a degree of astuteness but this was well beyond what was expected of a lady.  To his eyes, Archie and Cook had been nothing but proper to each other.  They had stayed an arm’s reach apart at all times.  There were no lingering looks.  No covert glances.  Nothing that would cause anyone to question their friendship.  Except Katy, it seemed.

Kris shook his head, “Such a vivid imagination, my dear.  There’s nothing of that nature going on between Archie and Cook.  If not for the events on _The Hawk_ , I doubt they’d have swapped more than a handful of words with each other, and most likely none since they made port.  Cook is a Petty Officer and the men looked to him during the troubles on board and listened to him.  Archie is a young Midshipman who only barely has his sea-legs.  Without Cook and me to guide him on board, he would still be at sea.  But the friendship that they have is just that, a friendship, and nothing more.  Anything more is just that wonderful imagination of yours running riot over common sense, sweetheart, nothing else.”

Katy’s expression fell and guilt bubbled inside him at the harshness of his dismissal.  It hurt Kris to lie to her, truly it did, but what other choice was there?  They were in the open and, while the streets were hardly bustling, there were still people around.  If rumour of this got out and started to circulate around Charles Towne, Archie’s career would be finished even with an Admiral on his side. 

He tried to change the subject, “It’s unusual for mother to require us for afternoon tea, isn’t it?”

Katy didn’t speak for a moment, and Kris worried that he had offended her beyond the point of forgiveness, but eventually, after what seemed like an age, she sighed, “It’s been an unusual sort of day, wouldn’t you say?  She wants to discuss the wedding.  Now that you’ve been cleared, as I knew you would, she will want to waste no time in having us walk up the aisle.”

“Ah,” was all that Kris replied, his heat sinking at the prospect.

Katy stopped, forcing Kris to stop too.  She looked around the street and fixed on a small park up ahead.  There were enough people there to satisfy propriety but not so many as to overhear any conversations.  Katy practically dragged him there, Kris wondering what the urgency was.  She stopped beside a small bench and sat down, fixing her skirts with exaggerated care.  Kris sat beside her.  The bench was free and clear of cover and their pursuer would be forced to stay outside the park railings. 

Since he’d come back to Charles Towne, Katy seemed different, quieter and Kris could not seem to coax her to talk about it.  Was this man part of it or was it something else?  Maybe now was the time.  Maybe now he could persuade her to talk.

“Kris...” Katy drew out his name but would not meet his eye.

“Yes, Katy?”

“How do you feel about the wedding?” she asked.

He hadn’t expected the question.  Kris’ eyes followed the few children that were playing in the grass of the park as he gathered his thoughts.  His chest tightened every time the subject was broached and he took whatever opportunity there was to change the subject.  Though he knew that there was little choice but to go through with the wedding, he could not help but feel intensely disloyal about the whole affair. 

“How do _you_ feel about the wedding?” he asked back.

She smiled at that and gently tapped his arm with her fan, “I asked you first.  I’m not answering until you do.”

“I feel... excited?” Kris answered, hopeful that it was the answer that Katy wished to hear.

“Oh,” her expression fell for a second before she caught it, “Good.  That’s good.  Excited...  Yes, so am I.”

“Good,” Kris said quickly.

It was only a momentary lapse, the briefest of shifts to her expression, gone in an instant.  Katy watched the children playing, poking the ground with sticks, and then shrieking when the insects they were taunting moved.  She smiled as she watched their antics, but there was no joy in it. 

Kris’ eyes flicked to the man at the railings, watching him carefully.

“Katy, you would tell me if anything was worrying you, wouldn’t you?” Kris asked.

She started and then settled back down, “Of course.  As would you, I trust.”

Kris fell silent at that.  There was a wealth of information that he wasn’t telling her, but given their situation, how could he?  He had made a promise to her and he intended to keep it.  Her safety and her freedom depended on it.  He would not see her released back into her father’s hands to be sold off to the highest creditor as payment against debts accrued.  She deserved more to her life than that.  She deserved a husband who cherished her, a family who loved her, children running about her feet, and so much love, and Kris could not offer her the last - not now – but he could offer her safety and work hard to make sure that she had everything she could want.

His mother had already filled the society column of the local journal with the exciting news that they were to be wed.  The bans were posted on the board outside the church.  She’d engaged a dressmaker, chosen a venue and was already instructing the organist about music.  The only item, or so it seemed, that was outstanding was the onerous task of picking a date, and as much as Kris may have wanted to, he couldn’t pick some far off date.  The eyes of Charles Towne society were on him now, waiting to see what he did next.

He wanted time, but there was none available.  Before the trial, when he was at his most pessimistic, his mother had sought him out and cornered him about the wedding, hoping to lift his spirits.  Kris had put her off, telling her that she was free to plan to her heart’s content just to get her to leave him to his wallowing.  It had seemed a safe bet while there was little chance of his being cleared of the charges laid against him.  Now that he was cleared, he’d have to convince his mother that the very next Sunday was not an appropriate date for a wedding.  He needed time to consider their options.  He wondered whether he could introduce Katy to one of his friends, make a potential match, but there was no one Kris could think of who would allow Katy the freedom to be the strong woman that she was.  She needed a true love, someone whom she could love and be happy with, and who would let her be herself, like Kris felt with Adam.  Maybe he could help her to relocate, take her far away from her father and the bad memories of her childhood.  Since coming back to Charles Towne, he’d been focused on the courts-martial but now he needed to devote himself to this situation.  At the very least, he needed to find a way to tell Katy, to break the news to her gently.

“...and you haven’t heard a word of that, have you?” Katy nudged him gently.

Kris blinked, “I’m sorry, Katy, what were you saying?”

Katy looked at him, “It doesn’t matter.  Where were you just now?”

“Where?  I was right here, with you.  Where else would I have been?” Kris answered.

“I honestly don’t know, Kris, but you were anywhere but here.  Tell me, what was going through your head just now?” she asked, reaching a hand out to rest on his.

“Just, thoughts of the wedding, darling.  Nothing worth mentioning,” he tried to sound nonchalant but he feared that he failed.  “Maybe it’s nerves, maybe it’s all this business with the court-martial, I don’t know.”

Before going to sea on _The Hawk_ , before his time on _The Madness_ , he had made that promise with a clear conscience but now?  Kris felt like an adulterer.  Neither of them had spoken even private wedding vows, but what he felt now for Adam made vows merely a formality. 

And when precisely had he turned into a babbling babe? 

Maybe he just needed a little time by himself, removed from the constant vigilance of his family and friends and the ever-present checks to make sure that he was doing well and keeping his spirits up.

“You don’t need to spare me, Kris,” Katy said softly, “I’m not going to break if you share your feelings with me, or your thoughts, or your nightmares.  Please.  You’ve listened to the worst things that I could tell you and taken it in stride.  Let me do the same for you?”

There was a helplessness to her tone that tore at Kris’ heart.  He turned and smiled down at her, giving her hand a squeeze, “I appreciate the offer, really I do, but I’m not sure that I have the words yet.  I will tell you, I promise, but not yet.”

That seemed to appease her, “Alright then.  Why don’t you take some time this afternoon then?  Go somewhere, do something.  I’ll give your mother your apologies, tell her that something came up, demanding your attention.”

“I shouldn’t,” Kris shook his head.

“I insist.  Go, Kris, that’s an order,” her lips quirked up, “I shall have a carriage bring me back to the house.”

“An order, is it?” Kris asked, smiling at his fiancée as she sat there, shoulders set and a look on her face that would have scared an admiral, “Very well.  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe a walk would do me good.  But at least let me see you to a carriage safely.”

She nodded and Kris stood, extending his arm to help her to her feet.  They walked through the park and to the carriage stand at the other side.  The man followed at a distance and Kris was nervous now.  This was not some circumstance.  The man was watching them and trying to cover his interest.  Kris moved to place himself between Katy and the man, just in case.

The carriage drivers, to a man, straightened themselves up and tipped their caps to both Kris and Katy as they walked to the first man in the carriage line. 

“Take care of yourself, Kris,” Katy said before stepping up into the carriage, “And try to be home before supper or I fear your mother will have words, despite anything I can say.”

“I will see you later,” Kris closed the carriage door and gave the man the address and a coin, more than enough for the journey and a healthy tip.  “See her to the door.  Do not leave until it is answered and she is inside.  Do you understand?”

The man looked at the coins in his hand and tipped his hat, “Aye, sir.”

The pursuer seemed torn.  He took a couple of false steps towards the carriage rank and only then seemed to notice that Kris was watching him.  He turned and retreated down the street.  Kris lost sight of him as he turned down an alleyway.  The man seemed to be more interested in the carriage, and by extension Katy, than he was in Kris and that was a concern.  Was it circumstance?  Did he disappear because Kris was now obviously aware of his presence or had he intended on following Katy had Kris not been looking directly at him?  And if it was Katy that he was interested in, what was the reason?  And who was behind it?  Perhaps some investigation was in order. 

Kris started after the man, hurrying down the same alleyway where the man had disappeared.  There was a flash of something, disappearing around the corner and Kris hurried to follow.  Street after street, Kris tracked the man until finally, down by the docks in the chaos of an unloading ship, Kris lost all sign of the wretch.  Kris bit back a curse. 

Kris searched the crowd carefully, ducking between the heavy crates and the men working thereabouts, but, of the man, there was no sign.  He asked a few of the men but they had seen nothing but their work.  The entire situation sat ill with him.  Someone was tracking Katy and Kris had no inkling as to why.  Who would do such a thing?  Why? 

He walked the length of the docks, poking his head down alleyways until he reached the main thoroughfare and then walked back towards the water again.  Once, he thought he caught sight of the man but when he stepped closer, he found that instead it was a dockland Moll with her mark.  Tipping his hat, Kris stepped back and left them to their evening pursuits.

 



 

The docks, by the standard of any man who did not know them intimately, were the dirtiest, grimiest, most lawless part of Charles Towne, but there was a beauty to them that one had to be a man of the sea to understand.  Instead of piles of rope sitting untidily on the pier, there were mooring lines ready to be cast out as soon as a ship pulled in.  Instead of barrels and crates, there was cargo that would fetch someone a pretty penny, or go to feed a hungry crew on those long nights when the sun set early and the wind cut through you sharper than any blade.  Instead of drunkards, there were...  Well, no, they were still drunkards, but they were also seamen spending their hard earned wages and satisfying lusts that went unanswered during the long days and the longer nights on a voyage.  Soon they’d be back at sea and working hard, or at least doing a good enough job that their officers would overlook them in favour of others.

Kris was still in Bell’s borrowed uniform so in order to pass by unnoticed, or as unnoticed as he could given that most of the people in Charles Towne knew his name, his face and everything about him, he removed his jacket, folded it so that the inside was the outside and tucked it over his arm.  There was a warm wind blowing that afternoon, carrying the sweet salt smell over the pier and the dock.  He heard the familiar sounds of shouts, orders and laughter around him, but paid it no mind.  Instead, he leaned against the butt of one of the mooring struts at the end of the empty pier and looked out over the waves.

The man from earlier crossed his mind, frustration rising again as he thought of how neatly the man had evaded him, but those thoughts were almost instantly eclipsed by the sounds of the dock and the smells of the sea.  His mind turned unbidden to _The Madness_ , how could it not?  His life had been a patchwork of duty since he’d been ‘rescued’ on New Providence.  He knew that Adam had escaped safely but only through indirect means.  Capturing _The Madness_ would have been news of immense proportions and would have made it up and down the coast faster than even the fastest ship with a following wind filling her sails.  No news had come and Kris prayed that Adam kept his wits and stayed hidden, out of the eyeline of any Naval ships.  With the capturing of a prize such as _The Hawk_ , every British ship would be watching for the audacious pirate and clamouring for revenge.  Even foreign Navies were hoping for a glimpse of _The Madness_ ’s colours so that they could take the now infamous Captain who got one over on the British and stole their ship, their crew and their officers.  Kris sighed heavily and watched the waves break against the rocks below. 

There had been a chill to the air on that fateful night that he’d watched Adam sail his ship back out to the sea, but in all honesty, Kris could not swear that it was not just his imagination.  He shivered as he remembered that painful night, the memory drawing him under.

The Madness _had escaped just in time, using the offense that the other pirate captains had mounted as his distraction.  Nathaniel North had followed, his ship lighter than, and almost as fast as,_ The Madness _, leaving the rest of the pirates to stand and face the British blockade.  It had been a bloody battle, with injuries on both sides.  Kris had counted three ships that were hulled by British cannon.  He had wanted to watch longer but he had defences of his own to mount.  Not all the men had made it back to_ The Madness _on time, and Kris estimated that he had a number near enough to the size of_ The Hawk _’s surviving crew on hand.  Cook and Cale had rounded up the men and Kris had addressed them quickly._

_“I know that before me stands an integrated crew._ The Madness _was forced to take to the sea without waiting for your aid.  Had she waited as she would have liked, she would be out there with the other pirate ships engaged in a fight as bloody as any we’ve been in.  Already three ships flounder and pray that they can make it to safe ground, and in a few minutes the engagement will be decided and, I fear, the British shall emerge victorious.”  He looked over the men and saw them agreeing, “I know that some of you are pirates through and true, and are planning on taking up arms to teach the British a lesson once they make land here, but believe me when I say that to do so is foolhardy at best.”_

_The men grumbled at that and shifted nervously from foot to foot, their hands resting on the butts of their swords and daggers._

_“Captain Lambert entrusted you to my care before he left,” Kris told the lie easily and with a sincerity to his voice that none dared question, “And I told him that I would, indeed, take care of you.  You’ve come to know me and to know that when I give my word, I will stand by it to the very end.  Then heed this, from this moment on, you are_ my _crew.  When asked, you are what remains of the crew of_ The Hawk _, captured by pirates and bound to service by them until such time as we effected escape here in New Providence.”_

_Again, grumbling was heard but Kris carried on, “There is but one punishment for piracy and that is to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.  You are loyal men, I know that, and I know that you do not like the idea of turning your back on the Captain and, whether you believe it or not, I would prefer to be on the deck of_ The Madness _right now than standing here in New Providence, but by standing here and spinning this story and distracting the British from the chase, we are giving_ The Madness _the precious few minutes that she needs to make good her escape.  You can join up with her again later, I’m sure of it, but to survive today, we need to be smart and outfox the British.”_

_“I know you’re not given to lying,” there were a few snickers at that, “but if questioned, remember the friends who stand beside you, remember back to before we joined as one crew and use that as your inspiration.  Talk to each other and draw from the experiences of the men beside you who have served with the Navy most recently.  I’ll keep the officers from you as much as I can but the men themselves will be asking questions.”  Kris allowed himself a smile, “Just remember, lads, that_ The Madness _is the most fearsome ship on the waves and her Master is hellspawn incarnate, and all will be well.”_

_Kris looked out over the port and saw the fight starting to die down, “We have a few minutes yet so think on my words.  If you’re still on this dock by the time the first British ship berths, I’ll know that you agree to my plan, but the choice is yours, boys.  You can run for the hills still, hide out until the British are gone.  Make your decision and consider it well.  There’ll be no going back on it afterwards or all our necks will be stretched.”_

_Kris left them to talk about it, not wanting to intrude, but he turned to his three loyal friends and beckoned them closer, “Find whatever you can that’s red, white or blue.  Or if you can’t do that, anything that is as close to white as possible.  We’ll need some sign that we stand with them or if not with them, then not against them, else they may take us as an enemy.”_

_Cale and Cook took off, looting any materials they could get their hands on.  The men watched for a second before cottoning on and helped with their efforts.  Archie stood by Kris’ side, a hand on his back to lend him support that was sorely needed that night._

A ship rounded the horn of the coast and so lost was he in his own history, that he swore that the sails were black as the darkest pitch and that red colours flapped as they caught the wind.  It was only on second blink that he saw the ship for what it truly was, just a cargo ship bound for the port to make a quick profit. 

He missed Adam so much that his heart ached with every passing moment.  He’d given himself over to the past for these last few weeks, moving from trial to trial, and reliving the memories again and again, but Adam was nowhere to be found as far as Kris knew.  He hadn’t heard news of new attacks.  He hadn’t heard more than old tales retold in dark corners.  There was nothing new, no news to cling to.  Who knew how long it would be before they would meet again?  Much as he might wish to, Kris could not simply swan off to find a single black sailed ship, and there was little chance of being swept off his feet by the roguish Captain Lambert here in respectable Charles Towne.  For now, and with a heavy heart, Kris knew that he must put Adam behind him, consign him to the past until the day that they were reunited.  He had duty, too much duty, to attend to, and people were depending on him.  That must take priority, no matter how his heart felt about such matters.

The sun was just starting to make its journey down behind the horizon.  Kris shook himself.  It must have been coming up to eight bells by his reckoning.  His mother would be upset with him for staying out so late.  He’d most likely missed dinner but hopefully, someone would have remembered to put a plate aside for him.  Putting on his coat, he headed for home. 

 



 

Kris’ mother had not mentioned his late arrival.  She’d agreed immediately to Mrs. Archuleta’s request and Kris had sent one of the men to confirm the arrangement.  The rest of the evening had been spent in the study with his father, sipping brandy until an indecent hour and not talking about anything in particular.  Kris was thankful for the reprieve. 

Kris had briefly visited the Admiralty the next morning to enquire about a new commission but the Commissions Officer that glared down his nose at him and slammed the commissions book closed with a snooty ‘No commission for you, Lieutenant’ ending the inquiry.  Kris had been surprised at the vehemence of the reaction but weathered it well.  The man disappeared into a back office, slamming the door behind him before Kris had a chance to ask the names of ships due to make port in the coming weeks.  Kris wondered what had the man in such a tizzy but went about the rest of the tasks that he had set himself for the day.  He would return to the Admiralty the following day and hopefully find the man in a better humour.

Kris left the Admiralty then and did as Mrs. Archuleta suggested.  He went shopping for an appreciation gift for the Admiral, as well as a visiting gift for Mrs. Archuleta herself.  His mother would probably already have something arranged but Kris had more than enough time to spare for the errand.  Indeed, without a fixed purpose, he found that he had more time available than he knew what to do with.  He dispatched a courier with the gift for the Admiral, making sure to give the man a short note to accompany the items.  With Admiral Gielham standing against him, Kris hoped that Admiral Fletcher might serve as a potential ally should the need arise.

His jobs for the day done, there was little else for him to do other than walk the town, or return home and stare at the four walls until it was time to get ready and leave for dinner.  He did stop into the local store and picked out copies of what newspaper journals they had, a couple of issues of _The Boston News_ , _The Daily Courant_ dating a month past and _The Review_ , another British publication and one that Kris thought far too full of satire and opinion.  He was almost to the shop owner when he noticed that one issue of _The Boston News_ was filled with news of _The Hawk_ ’s capture.  That one he left behind, but purchased the rest.  He thought that his father would probably have copies, but he was of the habit of taking the journals to the garrison where he worked and reading them over lunch.  They never returned.  There was not much to the publications, two or three pages at most, but they would each kill a few minutes.

To say that Kris did not do well being idle was to understate the case, and with his mother and fiancée out of the house organising... something or other, Kris didn’t even have conversation to keep him entertained.  After finishing all the journals, completing three games of _Patience_ and a hearty walk around the garden, Kris was considering finding some old clothes and tackling his mother’s scrupulously tidy rose garden in an effort to find some weeds and pull them out.  It was a choice he regretted very shortly after he started.  Honestly, he’d ended up less bloody after hotly pitched battles aboard ship.  Who knew roses would object so much to having their boundaries invaded?

A giggle behind him drew his attention and, in snapping around to see who was giggling, he almost lost his eye to a particularly sharp thorn.  Cursing it with a plague of greenfly, Kris knee-walked backwards out of danger and _then_ turned to see Katy standing there, still giggling.

“Whatever are you doing?  Did you lose something?”

Kris stiffened, a little hurt as he looked behind him to the rose bed and then back to Katy, “I was weeding.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“I happened to be walking through the garden and noticed a dandelion patch under the white bush there,” Kris pointed.

Katy’s eyebrow rose, “Kristopher...” she began, drawing out his name, “I weeded those bushes just the other day.  Unless our beds are prone to monstrous outbreaks of wildflowers...” she trailed off.

“Very well,” Kris sighed, “I was bored.”

“Oh darling,” Katy fixed her skirts and took a rather inelegant seat on the ground beside him, “I thought you had planned to go to the Admiralty today.”

“I did,” Kris said, “They had nothing for me.”

“Never mind, darling,” she smiled, “You can try again tomorrow.”

He doubted that they would have something for him tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or the next.  That was hardly the thing to tell Katy while she was trying so hard to be supportive.  He just smiled and assured her that he would try.  She seemed happy at that and Kris turned the conversation back to her day, and the Officer’s Trust event that she and his mother were organising.

Kris listened, nodding and smiling as she recounted the details of the various meetings she had been part of.  The man from the previous day crossed his mind again.  Though he had kept a weather eye on those around him, Kris had not spotted the man, but he wondered if Katy had.

“Katy?” Kris bit his lip as he tried to phrase the enquiry as delicately as he could.  He didn’t want to worry Katy prematurely.  “Katy, have you, by chance, noticed anything strange over the past few days?”

She looked up at him, frowning. “Strange?  No.”  She paused and her eyes searched his face. “What do you mean strange?”

There was something behind that answer.  Kris was sure of it, so he pressed a little harder, “Well, it’s just that, I’m sure it’s nothing, but yesterday when we were walking home from the Admiralty, there was a man following us.  Well, no, that’s not true.  There was a man following _you_.”

Katy’s eyes darted around her, flashing back and forth in a manner that put him immediately in mind of a practiced sailor taking in his escape options and trying to decide whether or not he’d be able to make it to them should the need arise.  He had hit a nerve, that much was true, and he could feel a knot of worry take root in the pit of his stomach and start to grow.

“Me?” Katy laughed, but Kris heard the falseness behind it, “I’m sure that you were imagining things.  I’m sure that it’s a peril of your years of service, but honestly, Kris, such flights of fancy.”

Kris listened to her words, sifting them in his mind.  There were no outright refusals there.  No indeed.  It seemed as if she were trying to divert him from the issue, putting the issue back on an assumed paranoia.  Kris’ mind flew back to the previous evening and his dismissal of her thoughts on Archie and Cook.  ‘Flights of fancy’, hadn’t those been his words to her?

Kris shook his head, “Katy…”  How did one tell their longest and best friend that you knew that they were lying, if not in fact but by omission?  “Katy, dear, you don’t have to hide it from me.  Whatever it is, I promise you, I can help, if you just let me.”

Katy didn’t look at him, couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from the grass, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, “I don’t know that you can.”

The worry that had been gnawing at Kris turned ice cold.

“The man yesterday, yes, I saw him.  I had hoped that he had been circumspect enough to keep hidden from you, but I should have known better.  You always were my saviour, Kris, but please, don’t try to intervene.  It’s not worth your life,” she stopped and her voice dropped even lower so that Kris had to strain to hear her, “I’m not worth your life.”

How could she think that?  How? 

“Confound it!  I will not hear you speak of yourself that way,” Kris shook his head and took her hand in his, “I’m sure you’re being overly dramatic.  Who is this man and why is he following you?”

Katy shook her head and Kris saw a glint of sunlight as it caught on a tear running down her cheek.  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, trying to lend her some of his strength even though, at the moment, he didn’t feel very strong.

“It started with a letter, I suppose, if I were to trace it back to the very start, a letter from a Grandaunt that I used to visit when I was a child, Aunt Katherine, the one I was named for,” Katy started, “It seems that she’s in failing health.”

“I’m sorry,” Kris started but Katy brushed his words aside.

“She’s in her sixties, it’s to be expected.  But she wrote to tell me that she is leaving me her estate, endowing it to me on her death or on my wedding day should that precede her death.  There is of course a condition that I allow her to stay on until her death should my wedding day come first,” Katy chanced a look at Kris, and then looked back down at the grass.

There was a wealth of tears just waiting to fall, and her smile was a weak and watery affair.  Kris shifted closer and pulled her back against him.  She tensed as he embraced her but then relaxed back into his arms.

“She sent a copy of the will as well.  It was only by chance that I saw the documents.  Aunt Katherine didn’t know that I had moved into your father’s house, you see, so they were delivered to my father’s house and he opened them before I ever got to see them.  It was Geoffrey who snuck the letter to me during a visit with my mother.  He hovered close and diverted any servants who might see and when I was done, he snuck it back to my father’s study and replaced it so that my father would not be aware that I had even seen it.”

The situation was starting to make sense for Kris.  He pursed his lips in a moue of disapproval even as he started thinking up less-than-polite adjectives for Peter O’Connell.  He knew the man was a blackguard, a true monster, but to engage a fellow to harass his daughter for a few shillings?  Kris couldn’t fathom the man.  How could someone care so little about their kin?

“I have to admit I had a hard time deciphering the will but I quickly figured out the paragraph that interested my father,” her voice turned cold, “If anything happens to me before the wedding, then the estate will go to my closest relative who just so happens to be…”

“Your father,” Kris filled in.  “Oh, Katy.”  He hugged her tighter.

“It wasn’t long after that when I noticed that I was being followed.  Aunt Katherine, I don’t think I ever told you about her.”  Katy didn’t wait for his answer, “She was married once back when she was about my age, to a sailor, a Petty Officer, and spent those years scraping for every penny to have enough food to put on the table, but she didn’t regret it one bit.  She married for love, you see, and even after she lost her husband to a storm, she never looked back in regret.  When the widow’s benefit stopped, she hit hard times.  She took on some seamstress work but there were easily a hundred other seamstresses in the city at that time, and all of them fighting for work, so her grandmother gave her an early inheritance and she moved into her grandmother’s house to see her through her final years.  She heard about our wedding and well, from her letter, she wanted to ensure that we were starting off on equal footing.”

Kris listened, trying to be sympathetic but he didn’t give two figs for the history lesson.  Peter O’Connell was having his daughter followed and that was what Kris wanted Katy to focus on.  There would be time to talk of her grandaunt later once the crisis was averted and they had a plan to follow.  He was a military man and he would make no apologies for it.  One didn’t stop for sherry in the middle of an attack unless one was tired of living.

“What about this man following you?  Do you know what he plans to do?” Kris asked, pushing a little harder.

“Kris, you’re a man of the world and more practiced in the art of war than I am, so surely you don’t need to ask that question,” Katy answered, “He means to get the inheritance one way or another.”

“We must…” Kris was ready to jump to his feet and do… what?

That was where his plan stopped short.

“I’ve taken some precautions, Kris.  I make sure that I am never alone, no matter where I go and I keep to the well travelled parts of the city.  I visit with my mother when my father is out and your mother has given me free reign to engage your family physician when the need arises.  I worry about her, truly I do, but I fear that father is forcing her from the rest that she needs.  Ellie’s sister watches her for me when I cannot be there, and passes her information every day.”  Katy sighed and pushed on, though Kris could see the toll that the situation was taking on her.   “For the rest of the time, I watch my own back and stay cautious.  Ellie is keeping watch too, never leaves me out of her sight unless she trusts the ones that I am with, but honestly besides the all too infrequent trips to visit my mother, since I moved in here there’s been nothing but afternoon tea and carriage rides and meetings with the cream of Charles Towne,” Katy smiled and it seemed a little more genuine this time.  “Who would have thought my father outfoxed by mere ladies?”  She laughed but there was an edge of desperation to it.

Kris said nothing.  He didn’t see the mirth of the situation.  Outfoxed by mere ladies?  Kris sincerely doubted that.  He knew O’Connell’s type all too well.  He would be like a wounded animal the closer they got to the wedding, and strike out when any opportunity presented itself, not caring about the collateral damage, and Kris couldn’t let that happen.  Already a plan was forming in his mind, but he would need help.

Katy cried herself out soon after that and Kris just held her, whispering soothing words even as his mind ticked away.  Kris could feel the anger inside himself simmering away.  It bordered on rage and only his will kept it under rein.  This situation would not benefit from Kris calling the bastard out.  No quick duel would solve this mess.  O’Connell was a canny villain.  He was scum, and used to sidestepping the legal niceties.  A bribe here, a word here and everything was smoothed out before anything could be proved.  He was used to manoeuvring his way through the halls of power in Charles Towne.  This called for something more underhanded, a subterfuge. 

What would Adam do? 

How would he deal with the situation?  The Pirate Governor’s meeting came to mind and never had any man reminded him of Peter O’Connell as much as Hornigold.  Adam had dealt easily with the man, with the help of a few allies, dismissing every retaliation before it could find purchase.  Kris would follow Adam’s example in this and use his Captain as a template.  However, Hornigold had kept some cards up his sleeves and they had come back to bite. 

If Kris wanted to do this and do this right, he would have to strip the man of every line of support and leave him on the street, cast out and broken.  A savage smile played around Kris’ lips and he took a vicious pleasure in the images that his mind put forth of a devastated O’Connell.  When Kris’ plan came to fruition, no one would take O’Connell’s tick and no one would reach out a hand to help the man.  Then, and only then, would Kris finish it. 

It would take time but Kris had that, his father had that, and until then O’Connell would not get a chance to harm so much as a hair on Katy’s head.  He’d done her enough harm.  Let his creditors take him, the man would lay no hand on Katy, nor steal the money that was rightfully hers.

 



 

All too soon, it was time to get ready for dinner.  Kris debated whether or not to wear his uniform, but when he returned from the bathroom, his formal uniform, or rather Mister Bell’s, had been cleaned and laid out on the bed.  He frowned at it and shrugging, put it on.  It was familiar, at least.  He looked at himself in the mirror as he fixed his cuffs and collar, straightening them and taking care to look his best.  He was strangely looking forward to the dinner, to spending time with Archie, and hopefully Cook. 

Ready, he made his way down his stairs only to see his father sitting patiently on a small chair kept beside the door for guests waiting to be received.  He looked up as Kris came down and then sighed.  Kris looked back up the stairs and shook his head, smiling.  Some things never changed.

Neil Allen was Commander of the Charles Towne garrison which defended the town, and had been for the last ten years since a lucky strike had caused him to retire the Navy.  It doubled as the town jail, not that it was used that way often.  With the strong naval presence and the militia presence that came from the garrison, Charles Towne was almost free of crime.  That wasn’t to say that there were never serious incidents, but mostly it was all small incidents like disorderly conduct or singing love songs at closed windows in the middle of the night.   That seemed to suit his father well. 

He’d been injured in the line of duty when he served as Captain of _The Boyne_ , an eighty gun third rate ship and one that Kris had practically grown up on.  But during a particularly tough engagement, he’d received a severe injury that left him in danger of losing his life as well as his leg.  The surgeon had been fresh from medical school and unbeknownst to anyone at the Admiralty, had paid a retiring colleague to forge his papers.  With a head filled with book smarts, and no ability to apply it, the man had hesitated for far longer than he should have and the rot had already started to set in. 

It was only his father’s own knowledge, and the presence of a particularly good boatswain’s mate with a bit of experience and a ‘have-at-it’ attitude, that had saved his life.  Between them, they’d even managed to save the leg but his father had lost a lot of his mobility after the boatswain’s mate had debrided the infected flesh and sealed the wound.  That had been enough to hold him until they made land and engaged the services of a properly trained doctor.  The scar was hideous and constantly hidden, but as his father had often said, better alive to complain than dead and unable. 

He’d lived on military time his whole life, as had Kris, but the women of the household kept to their own clock and both Kris and his father had learned to adapt and wait.  Kris had his visiting gifts with him already, a duo of fine imported wines and a selection of posies.

With a cough, the ladies announced themselves as they reached the top of the stairs and then glided down, looking like angels in their gowns.  They were a perfect pair dressed as they were in complementary greens, Katy in a fresh, pale green with dark accents and his mother in a dark, almost forest green with light highlights.  With their blonde hair swept up and small ringlets around their faces, they looked so like mother and daughter that it made Kris’ breath catch in his throat. 

This was the woman to whom he would be married.  Though he knew it in his head, and there had been enough talk about it, surely, he’d never truly stopped to think about it before.  He had made the promise to her but that was all the thought he had devoted to the matter.  Here, however, as she walked down the stairs, he could see his mother smiling down at her future daughter and it damned near broke his heart. 

Katy was beautiful, of course she was, but there was no flash of anything within him as he looked at her.  There was friendship, surely, but that was where it stopped.  It took his father’s prodding to move him and to take Katy’s hand as she took the final step off the staircase. 

“Well, shall we go?” Kris’ mother asked, “We don’t want to be late.”

Kris valiantly bit back his smile, as did his father, as they led the ladies out to the waiting carriage.  It was only a ten minute trip to the Admiral’s mansion and his mother still managed to give them the complete run down on Mrs. Archuleta and her history, as known to the ladies of Charles Towne.

“Well, it was all a big scandal as I remember, but nothing was ever more than a rumour.  She was off visiting her sister, or cousin, some older female relation up around Boston and apparently, she met a fine Naval officer by the name of Archuleta, a Spaniard who turned his coat and came to the British laden down with Spanish battle plans,” Kris’ mother leaned in, “He was a swarthy type by all accounts, dark hair, dark eyes and filled to the brim with that Spanish romance we all hear about.”

“Really, Kim,” Kris’ father cut in, “This is hardly the sort of information to be bandied around.  It’s gossip, pure and simple, and the woman has invited us to her home for dinner tonight.  It’s impolite.”

“Oh, hush,” she waved his words aside, but did lower her voice, “Anyway, no one knows if she did truly marry the man and he simply ran off, or if she just took the man’s name after he left her with a little gift.  She doesn’t wear a wedding ring, you see, and that caused all sorts of rumours.  It’s because of those rumours, or rather, should I say, her brother’s reactions to those rumours, that the women of the town haven’t felt able to reach out and invite her to be part of their social circle.  Lord knows, it’s not fair on the poor woman.”

She sighed and looked out at the buildings for a moment before turning back, “I tried to include her in one of my charity boards before, but her brother deemed it beneath her and spoke none too gently to her of dire consequences if she even thought about attending.”

“There’s no proof of that, Kim,” Kris’ father interjected uncomfortably, “Just the word of Mrs. Hill,” he looked to Katy before explaining, “A woman who wouldn’t know true from false if the truth stepped in front of her, doffed it’s hat and introduced himself.”

“That’s hardly fair, Neil,” Kim tapped his leg with her fan, “You know that with her... affliction that she’s rather given to flights of fancy.”

Kris frowned at that until his father leaned in close and whispered, “The woman can pass up any drink except gin.  She has a permanent reek of it, worse than any distillery.”

“That’s a very unkind thing to say, Neil,” Kris’ mother looked scandalised at his words.

“True though.  Even you have to admit that, dear,” he smiled over at her.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction but she didn’t answer, merely skipped over the subject and back to her former conversation, “I have to admit that I was surprised when you brought home the invitation, but gratified.  Mrs. Archuleta will make a wonderful addition to our social circle.”

The carriage made its way through the gates and started up the horseshoe shaped driveway.  The mansion itself was everything that Kris expected, a three story brickwork magnificence edged with pale cream accents.  He hadn’t been here before and, from the street outside, nothing was visible behind the tall oak trees that lined the driveway and decorated the grounds. 

Kris climbed out of the carriage as soon as it stopped and knocked on the door.  While waiting on an answer, he helped Katy from the carriage.  By the time the door was answered, and Mrs. Archuleta sent for,  his father had helped his mother down and was escorting her up the steps.

“Lieutenant Allen, how wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Archuleta held out her hand and Kris, ever the gentleman, took her hand and kissed it.

She was wonderfully appointed, dressed in the finest dress that Kris had ever seen.  It was deepest blue with white lace detailing, cut low but without being unseemly so.  She wore it well, her own hair done much as his mothers and just tickling the tops of her shoulders as she moved.  The difference in social stature was evident immediately though.  Instead of the pearls that sat around his mother’s neck, Mrs. Archuleta wore gemstones; sapphires and diamonds.  Under the heavy jewelled choker, however, just catching the light, was a simple cross, worked out of much courser metals and hanging on a length of hide if Kris was to guess.  He wondered on that, but let no sign of curiosity rest on his face.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, ma’am,” Kris smiled.  “I’m sure you’ve already met, but I have the pleasure to introduce my father, Neil Allen, Commander of the Royal Marine Garrison here in Charles Towne, and my mother, Kimberley Allen.”

“A pleasure to meet you both again,” Mrs. Archuleta bowed her head and smiled.

“And this is my fiancée, Katherine O’Connell,” Kris smiled at Katy.

“An absolute pleasure, my dear,” Mrs. Archuleta reached out and rested a hand on her arm, “And how pretty you look this evening.  Both of you do.  I must get the name of your seamstress.”

Kris’ mother stepped forward, “Ah, you remember Mrs. Goodwin, well her daughter set up a delightful little store down on Main Street...”

Kris and his father were left to follow on behind as Mrs. Archuleta led his mother and Katy into the house, talking fashion all the way.  Kris cast a glance at his father and caught the roll of his eyes.  He hid a smirk behind his hand as he scratched his nose.

Stopping, Mrs. Archuleta turned and looked to Kris, “I believe David retired to the garden earlier with a good book.  Would you be so kind as to remind him that there is a world beyond naval regulations?  He’s been out there for hours.”

Kris’ mother waved him off with a hand, “Oh don’t worry, dear, we’ll be here with Mrs. Archuleta.  Talk to your friend.  We’ll be fine here,” his mother was quick to reassure him.

One look at his father told him that his father was less sure of the prospect and Kris smiled, “Of course, ma’am.  I’d be happy to.”

“Oh, William,” Mrs. Archuleta called out and a man stepped from the shadows, bowing his head, “Would you show the Lieutenant to the gardens, please?” 

He followed the liveried servant to a set of double doors which led to an enclosed garden.  Kris thanked the man and walked through the double doors to the patio.  He paused to look around the enclosed garden, a wonderfully kept and maintained garden filled with roses, azaleas and all manner of imported flowers.  Of Archie there was no sign.  It wasn’t long, however, before he got an unmistakable clue as to where to find Archie, and by extension Cook.  He had never figured Archie for being particularly vocal, well, that was not quite true.  To be honest, Kris had never stopped to dwell on thoughts of how Archie might act during his more carnal moments with Cook, and now that he knew, he wished that he could banish the memory.  His thoughts flashed immediately to Adam and those wonderful little sounds that Adam made when Kris touched him just so.  A flash of jealousy shot through him, but Kris stamped it down.  Another groan came from around the bushes and Kris could not wait any longer.

Deciding to be rather obvious, Kris called out, “Archie?  Are you out here?  It’s Kris.”

Kris heard muffled curses and scuffling sounds and after a few moments, Archie stepped out from behind a small copse of apple trees.  He was looking positively dishevelled, his clothes askew and incorrectly buttoned, his cheeks stained blush red.  His eyes held a wildness that Kris recognised very well from his liaisons with Adam and even without the proof of his own ears, Kris would have known instantly what Archie and Cook had been doing.  They were lucky that it had been he who had come out to the garden and not someone who wished either of them harm.

Cook joined them after a few minutes, looking a lot more composed than his paramour.  Kris gestured to the buttons on Archie’s waistcoat and Archie quickly rebuttoned them and tucked in his shirt.  For a moment, no one said a word.  For Kris’ part, he had no desire to address that which he had walked in on, but he found that he had to.  This had been too close a call and he did not wish his friend to pay the price for indulging in physical affection with the man who held his heart.  It was enough that one of them was tortured with a separation from their lover, without all of them being miserable and alone.

Kris caught Cook’s eye and the man looked away, his cheeks blazing and guilt all over his face.  Kris flicked a glance at the door and Cook removed himself, going to stand beside the double doors through which Kris had entered the garden.  Kris waited until he was gone before turning to look at Archie.  His friend was starting to look worried and though it pained him, he could not offer the lad comfort in this.  It was too grave a matter.

Kris shook his head and took a deep breath, "Archie, you shall have to be more circumspect.  You cannot be caught trysting with Cook."

Archie took a step backwards, clearly shocked at Kris’ words.  Kris frowned, not really understanding the reaction. 

"B… but Kris,” he stuttered, shaking his head, “you cannot mean that I should end the relationship.  Damnit, but I find myself totally in love with him.”  There were tears starting to glisten in his eyes and Kris could see him valiantly trying to blink them back, “If any man were to understand, I thought that it would be you.  Can you tell me that if Captain...” he dropped his voice looking around nervously, “Well, if _he_ were here, that you would not be... trysting with him right now?”

Kris stared at Archie, unbelieving that his friend could think so little of him, and to bring Adam up...  Kris bit down that initial spark of anger, of betrayal.  He hoped that Archie didn’t mean it to come out the way that it sounded, even if it felt like a slap in the face.  Somehow the man had missed the meaning of his words entirely.  How could Archie, who was so skilled in the ways of the Admiralty, miss the obvious meaning of his words? 

Kris shook his head, “What have I done to make you think that I would even think to have you break your relationship?  You are my friend, and it’s because of my concern for your continued wellbeing, and that of Cook’s, that I raise the point.  Archie, you have a way of hearing words but letting the meaning pass you by...  I said that you cannot be _caught_.  You must be more careful.  You’re acting like a wounded pup, believing that every move towards you is to beat you more.  I’m not the first to say this, am I?"

Archie shook his head.

“It was Cook?” Kris asked.

Archie nodded, and Kris was glad that the older man had not taken leave of his senses completely.  They were still in the first flash of love and lost in the need to touch and kiss and...  Kris cut the thought short before his mind carried him places that he would not, could not go.

“He’s right to be cautious, Archie,” Kris counselled his friend, “The garden here, it’s not...”

"Oh," Archie interrupted, "We're quite safe here, I promise you."

Safe?  On what world was the man living?  Had he wanted, Kris could have rounded the copse and found out exactly what Cook had been doing to elicit such sounds from his boy.  How could he be so, so, so foolish?  Had Kris had half the chance that Archie did, had he but five minutes with Adam here and now, he might chance a kiss maybe, or hold his hand, but nothing more than that even though it would kill him to deny Adam anything, but this was the Admiral’s house and no matter what Archie thought, it was not safe, not by any definition of the word.

Kris pointed to the trees that had sheltered them, "Not five minutes ago, I walked out here and, had I been less sensitive to the situation, found you in Cook's arms.  I could have been anyone.”

"But you weren't,” Archie stressed, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes.  “Besides the staff here are..."

"In your uncle's employ,” Kris cut in, frustrated that Archie was so blisteringly naive.

Kris ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it in frustration and then patting it down again.  How could he get his point through to Archie?  Archie was blessed to be so close to his lover – blessed – and here he was, taking that fact for granted.  Damn him for that.  Damn him!

“Damnation Archie, do you not remember that just a few days ago, I was a hairsbreadth from death?  Brought up on four, five charges that each carried death penalties,” Kris’ voice rose as he spoke, frustration at Archie giving way to anger giving way to the deep-set despair that Kris felt but couldn’t give voice to.  “It gives a man a certain perspective.  You trawled through acres of naval regulations, and don’t think me ungrateful for your efforts but I see nothing of that smart, intelligent man who battled with words in the boy who stands before me right now.  Lord help me, but you move from an innocent and almost dangerous naiveté to a tactical competency with barely a moment between.  Surely you realize that with your connections, with your _name_ , that you will be protected?  It’s Cook who will suffer for this, and if luck is with him, he’ll only be hanged.  I have nothing against your relationship, Archie, truly I don’t.  I wish you all of the happiness in the world, but you must be circumspect. You are smarter than this, I know you are!  I understand the first blush of love and the need to be close to your lover but Archie, for the love of God, man, be careful.  It’s not just your life…”

Archie looked up at him with wide eyes but said nothing, and Kris pushed on.

“Archie, you have to realise that after the events of the last few days, indeed the last few weeks, the eyes of everyone are on you and us,” Kris stressed his words, “Whether it is in your own house or out on the streets, you need to keep your passions hidden.  I’m not saying to keep yourselves apart.  I know that to ask that would be well beyond the Pale.”  Kris reached out and rested his hand on Archie’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, trying to offer a little support, “You’ll be back aboard ship soon enough and Cook with you and then you can be a little less guarded hopefully.  It is difficult, I know that.  I just fear that with your uncle holding the position that he does, Cook will bear the brunt of it, with your uncle claiming that Cook wantonly seduced you and led you astray.  I know that that’s not the truth of it, but as you’ve seen, the truth of a situation can be manipulated to suit the outcome that one wants.”

Archie’s face fell at Kris’ words but at least he seemed to appreciate the Kris was correct.  It was a little cruel probably, but Kris could not stand idly by and let them be so blinded by love that they walked themselves directly to the gallows.  Not while he could help. 

“Master Archuleta, Lieutenant, I believe your presence is requested in the dining room,” Cook’s voice carried easily.

Archie started to move to the doors but Kris caught his arm, stopping him, “Will you at least consider what I said, Archie?  I owe you a debt that I’m not sure that I will ever be able to repay and I would not see you hurt for this.”

Archie said nothing for the longest time and Kris started to worry that he had pushed the bounds of friendship too far.  But Archie’s eyes softened and he nodded, “I will consider it.  Thank you for your concern.”

Archie moved into the house, Kris on his heels and Cook following after them.  By the time they reached the dining room, Cook had disappeared and Kris hadn’t even noticed.  Archie was the model of gentlemanly politeness as he greeted Kris’ family, apologising for his tardiness and complementing the women on their appearance.  He even had a few words for Kris’ father, asking after recent affairs that Kris had heard nothing about.  Yet again, it seemed as if Archie, the politically savvy officer, was to the fore and, in truth, it still left Kris at odds trying to piece together that version of Archie with the naïve man-boy that he was at times.  It was disconcerting, but Kris supposed that having an uncle so highly ranked, and being from a certain strata of society, he’d gotten a lot of training in the appropriate way to act, but it still took Kris a moment to adjust when Archie changed personas.

They were seated after only a few moments, and servants brought out steaming bowls of soup and freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven.  Kris supposed that the dinner went well enough, an affair wrapped in small talk with only hints of real conversation that were cut short before they touched on the truly interesting subjects of history or politics.  It was affairs such as this that Kris went to sea to escape.  The food was first rate and Kris was sure that Mrs. Archuleta had gone out of her way to ensure that they were suitably impressed.

They hadn’t yet reached desert when one of the servants interrupted and announced that there was a man at the door wishing to speak to Kris’ father.  Putting his napkin aside, Kris’ father excused himself and went to deal with the matter.  He never returned, just sent his apologies.  Apparently, something had come up requiring his immediate presence.  Kris hesitated to think what it could be but regretted his father’s absence as the conversation was taken over by talk of the wedding and the preparations that his mother had been so taken with since his return.

"Have you been to the new merchant?” asked Mrs. Archuleta, “He specialises in fine fabrics and when I happened to be in there earlier, I saw the most delightful sateens."

Kris kept his head down, not making eye contact lest he be asked his opinion on fabrics when he barely knew cotton from velvet.  Neither were sailcloth and that was all that he could be sure of.  He quickly finished his desert and caught Archie’s eye.  His friend was only a bite behind him. 

Archie gave him a slight nod and turned to his mother, rising slightly from his seat, "Mother, if you'll excuse us.  I believe Kristopher and I will retire to the study for a glass of cognac."

Her eye looked beyond Archie to Kris and then looked over to Kris’ mother.  Her lips pursed just a fraction then relaxed again, "David, a man should know the details of his own wedding.  It may only be fabrics, but…"

But Archie answered without pause, easily disarming her, "Fabrics and flowers are details too fine for us.  Such talk would fly as far above as the birds, mother."

With an exasperated sigh, Mrs. Archuleta shook her head and laughed to Kris’ mother and Katy, "Men.  Ask them to plan a two-fronted action and they are front and centre, but a wedding?  Completely beyond them."

Kris’ mother laughed but Kris saw Katy’s brow furrow just a fraction and there was a flash of something lightning quick across her eyes and then it was gone.  Kris made a note to talk to Katy later, but for now, there was _escape_.  He followed Archie to a study, obviously one favoured by his uncle given the portrait over the fireplace and the heavy oak desk piled high with papers at one side of the room.  Archie gestured to Kris, ushering him into the room.  Kris moved past his friend and paused, not wanting to overstep himself.  Archie closed the door firmly behind them, pausing for second too long before turning and walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring two healthy glasses of cognac.  He handed one glass to Kris and sat down heavily in one of the overstuffed armchairs that sat beside the fire.  Kris took the other one and sipped.  There was obviously something troubling Archie and Kris didn’t want to push his friend before he was ready to talk. 

Archie ran a thumb around the rim of his glass, playing with it as he stared into the flames.  It must have been five full minutes, long minutes before he spoke and Kris was startled by his question and the cold tone to his friend’s words, "So you still mean to go through with the wedding?"

"Of course,” Kris answered, frowning, “What other choice is there?  I promised Katy, and I am a man of my word."

Archie looked at him for the longest moment, head tilted to the side a fraction as he studied Kris.  There was something to the way that Archie was watching him that made Kris school his features.  He couldn’t let Archie know exactly how deep the hurt ran.  That was his pain to carry and his alone.  Archie was still too idealistic and more than a little naive when it came to the realities of love. 

Kris was back in Charles Towne now, with duties to which he needed to attend.  He needed to ensure that Katy was safe and free of any threat from her father, but he could tell Archie none of that.  With what he had seen earlier, Kris wasn’t sure that Archie could hold his tongue should Kris confide in him.  Besides, they were not his secrets to tell even if he felt inclined to share them. 

Adam, Kris knew, would understand.  He had said as much only seconds before they had parted.  Kris had no idea when, or even if, they would meet again.  Pirating was a dangerous life and when everyone on the sea was an enemy, long term survival was something to be dreamed about.  Kris had hope that they would be reunited, that fate would not be so cruel as to introduce them and then tear them apart with no hope of coming together again, but until they did reconnect, Kris needed to put the past where it belonged and look to the future, and to the duties that he found himself caught in, even if it pained him.

His was not the ideal situation that Archie had.  His lover did not live under his roof.  No.  His love was out to sea somewhere and, like as not, running from the British even now, or he was holed up at some pirate port, sinking mugs of rum and remembering happier times.  For all Kris knew, it was only he who hoped for a reunion, although he tried his best to put that thought from his mind.  Unfortunately, only time would tell how their story was fated to end. 

Archie persisted, though, driving the pain deeper, "And your time aboard _The Madness_ , and the love you felt for its Master?"

Kris felt his voice crack and it took a moment to form the words, "That is behind me.”

Kris could not meet Archie’s eyes and choose instead to watch the flicker of the flames.  It was a lie, a bad one, and Kris wouldn’t be surprised if Archie saw straight through it, but he couldn’t muster the sincerity.

Archie didn’t seem to notice, "I thought you a better man than that."

Kris heard the disappointment clear and present in his voice, but there was nothing he could say to address the charge.  Not this one.  Their conversation faded to silence interrupted only by Cook entering after a while to let Kris know that his mother was planning to return home. 

Kris said his goodbyes to Archie but Archie didn’t make any effort to answer or even acknowledge that he had heard him.  Kris wanted to say something in that moment, explain, and even paused in the doorway but what could he say to make Archie understand?  With a sigh, he turned and left Archie staring at the fire.


	3. A War on Paper

  
[](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html) 

 

  
_**29 th August 1710** _   
_**The Crown and Sceptre, Charles Towne, Carolina** _   


 

The tavern was dreary as these establishments went, and a thick layer of tobacco smoke hung in the air, swirling as Kris stood in the doorway.  _The Crown and Sceptre_ was far enough from the docks that any idle sailors wouldn't stumble in and it was far from the type of establishment that any God fearing officer would frequent.  As it was the tavern was quiet, with only a handful of men huddled in close to the open fire.  A grizzled man stood behind the bar, a cloth in his hands.  Kris made his way over to the bar and paid for a bottle of rum.

"Tuppence for the rum," Kris kept his voice low, not wanting any others to hear, "and a shilling to forget I was ever here."

The man nodded and handed over an almost clean glass and a bottle of the rot gut that passed for quality rum here.  Kris took it and retreated to the darkest corner of the tavern, to a well worn seat and rickety table.  The first measure Kris poured was generous by anyone's standards but Kris needed it.  Downing it in one long gulp, Kris let the watered down grog warm him through.  It wasn't a warm day in Charles Towne.  Storm clouds gathered on the horizon in more ways than one and Kris needed the escape.  On one hand, the Admiralty stayed as aloof as ever, not deigning to recognise his existence.  Previously friendly officers now passed him without so much as a nod in his direction, and the Commissions Officer had started calling every man and dogsbody in the room before he even looked in Kris' direction.   Kris was filled to the gills with platitudes from his father bidding him to bide his time, that everything would blow over and be as it was before the frightful business of _The Madness_.  That was how his father described it; a frightful business, and Kris was a hairsbreadth from shrieking and crying and yelling to all who'd listen that not one single moment was frightful, that he'd truly discovered who he was the second he'd met the fearsome Captain Lambert and that his heart still sailed the seas, the prized treasure of a notorious pirate.  That would truly put the cat amongst the gulls and no mistake.  At least it would quiet his mother who spent every spare moment fussing over wedding plans and details of the reception as if the fate of the world rested on guest lists and floral patterns.  She had tried to involve Kris in the planning but honestly Kris would have been happier discussing plans for his own execution rather than suffer through one more argument on the benefits of brocade over satin.  No doubt his mother thought it a wonder that Kris could dress himself each morning given what he knew about fabrics.

Katy had been his star, his one lifeline through this past week, taking the minutiae from his shoulders and providing ample excuses to escape when she saw Kris approach his breaking point. 

Ordinarily, Kris would have met with friends and passed time with them in the evenings, but Kris found himself sorely lacking in that regard.  Even Archie, who had been a staunch ally since their so-called rescue, would not receive him.  Since the night of the dinner at the Admiral's house and their argument thereafter Archie had been as every other officer in Charles Towne and avoided him.  Kris supposed that it was possible that Archie was simply busy.  Newly gazetted Lieutenants usually were, and no doubt he would be considering the wealth of placement offers that were doubtless being made.  Kris shook his head at the bitterness of his thoughts.  He didn't begrudge the lad his promotion, not in the least, however it sat ill with Kris that Archie was being promoted from actions that left Kris a social and naval pariah: courage in the face of the enemy, unwavering leadership in untenable circumstances and freeing his crew from the clutches of the enemy.

Had Kris been a lesser man, he'd march on the Admiralty and lay the record straight but to do that would doom every man amongst them to the gallows. 

Kris sipped at the rum and tried to turn his thoughts to more pleasant things but it was futile.  Try as he might, Kris' mind spun over the last week and Archie's words settled at the forefront of his mind, as they had done for the past week ever since Archie had snapped them out.

_"I thought you a better man than that."_

The words echoed.  Kris prized honesty above all else and, with his words, he’d shot straight to the heart of everything that tugged at Kris’ conscience.  He wanted to tell Katy, he truly did, but how did he raise that particular issue with the woman he was due to wed in just a few short weeks?  That question had plagued him every waking moment, and half-completed speeches and excuses followed him with every step, changing each time until he almost had the words and then they were gone, never good enough to be spoken aloud, hollow and insincere in the light of day.  How Kris wished that Adam was here beside him, not only to distract him from these morbid thoughts with his lips, his hands, his touch, but also for the reassurance Kris felt whenever Adam was near, the unwavering faith that Adam had in him.  He could surely use that now.

Kris closed his eyes against the memories lest they draw tears or shone too brightly on his face.  He missed Adam.  He missed him with his whole heart, his soul, his very being, and each day Adam seemed further away.  There was a fear, stamped down but stubborn still, deep inside of him that made him wonder if Adam missed him, or even thought of him at all.  At night, when the nightmares came, Adam laughed and called him naive as he wrapped some other man in his arms.  Those were the dreams he hated.  Those were the dreams he feared.  In his heart, he knew them to be false.  He knew them to be his insecurities and his doubts, his frustrations given hideous form, but that did not stop the nightmares from plaguing him at night.  He shook his head and drank deeply from his glass, filling it as soon as he could see the bottom. 

"An ale for our storyteller," one of the group by the fireplace called out and, with a grunt, the innkeeper obliged.  "Well, Enoch, will that wet your throat?"

The man, Enoch, took a sip and smacked his lips together, nodding as he did, "Nought better than a good ale, and while this isn't a good ale, it'll do for a time.  Now where was I?"

"Telling us of your last voyage," he was prompted, "Of _The Hawk_ and that fateful night when it ran into trouble."

Kris frowned, and turned his ear to the words drifting over from the boisterous crowd.  His eyes found Enoch's face but his memory remained blank.  He'd never seen the man before in his life.  He was neither crew of _The Hawk_ nor of _The Madness_ so what could he tell of their story?

"It all began on a dark and moonless night.  The Summer's breezes had died down and the air was dead still.  I was standing watch that night with nought but the stars for company.  The Captain, Lord rest him, and his officers had been making merriment earlier in the evening and we thought them abed.  It wasn't until that young Lieutenant Allen stepped out that I realised I was to have company for my watch.  A serious man, that one, but strong and fair and with eyes keen as any eagle," Enoch stared into the fire as he spoke and his voice took on a tortured tone as if the supposed memories were painful to recall.  "It was he who spotted _The Madness_ first.  Just a ghost she was, sailing through the black seas with not so much as a light on her.  There was a glow about her though, an eerie, otherworldly glow, and the fog that rose in her wake caught the starlight.  Bound fast we were to the deck.  All we could do was watch her sail closer, unable to pull our eyes from the sight."

Kris couldn't help himself, he leaned forward, hanging on every ridiculous word.  He knew the truth of it and still he was captivated.

"They say that Lambert has the mark of the Devil about him, and right they be.  He was the first soul we saw, that night, standing on the bowsprit, dressed head to toe in purest white.  Dead men lined the railings, beckoning us to our deaths but we stood fast, the Lieutenant and me, until we heard a church bell ringing out our doom.  Miles from shore we were, more miles than sound would carry o'er, but still we heard it.  Sent shivers down our spines and t’was enough for us to free ourselves from the pirate's voodoo curse.  The Lieutenant rang the alarm and I roused the crew.  We had all hands on the deck 'fore even a minute passed.  Good men all, the ones who served on _The Hawk_ , none better in the Navy, but we couldn't think to stand against _The Madness_ ' trickery," Enoch shook his head, taking a sup of ale before his pressed on with his story, "We shot cannon at them, but our shots went clear through their hull, making not so much as a mark on the timber, to splash uselessly into the water beyond them.  He had his witch on the deck, the African wench he brings with him, and we could hear her spelling something, singing out into the night to those devil gods of hers.  They must have been listening to her that night.  The wind came up behind them, carrying them closer but our sails stayed empty.  Even the waves died to nothing.  We did our best, surely we did, but there was nothing we could do except watch our fate draw ever nearer."

Kris bit his lip to contain the laughter that bubbled up inside him.  If Maya heard any man call her a wench, well, there'd be Hell to pay and to call her a witch to boot?  No man on _The Madness_ would dare give sanctuary to one who did either.  Such men courted their own disaster and met it in Maya's scowling face.  The woman was either a Godsend or your worst enemy depending on how you treated her, but Kris had a soft spot in his heart for her.  On principle, Kris should probably put an end to the tale and denounce the man's stories as nothing more than cheap titillation, but he wanted to hear the end of this wondrous, if completely fictional, tale.  Besides that, it would do Adam's reputation no harm to be thought of as even more aligned with the supernatural than the tales already claimed.  With a witch at his side and the Devil at his back, Kris was sure that Captain Lambert could come to no harm.

"They used no ropes to swing across, just floated ghostly as shades until their feet touched our deck.  I crossed myself and prayed to God and his angels for mercy.  I wasn't alone in that.  Even the officers asked the Lord to give them the strength to face these dead men, and dead men they were too.  The starlight shone off their bleached bones, and tattered clothes were all they wore.  I swung my sword good as any other man there, but I could not kill so much as one man from their number," Enoch shook his head sadly, "Every time I sundered one, he built himself back up, bone by bone by shining bone.  The only man who acquitted himself well was Lieutenant Allen but he was the one chosen by the Master of _The Madness_."

Kris spluttered as he heard Enoch's words and coughed to clear the rum from his lungs.  Kris had no doubt that the man meant it in innocent enough ways but to Kris' mind, there was a different undercurrent to the words and one that made Kris wonder.  He stared at Enoch again, but the man's dark beard, unwashed and filthy, hid no man that Kris had ever seen before.

The tavern door opened then and Kris blinked against the sudden light.  Enoch stopped speaking and turned to look at the men in the doorway, as did his companions, but in the end he settled down to look back into the flames.  Kris couldn't make much out until the door closed and then, he cursed.  There, doing his best to be disguised, which was to say that the man still looked every inch the officer he was, stood Archie.  Cook stood as his shadow and Kris sighed.  He contemplated sinking down in his seat and curling his collar up about him to hide himself from view, but such a gesture would have been noticed.  It was Cook who saw him and of course it was.  The man missed nothing, and with a whisper, he directed Archie back towards the corner where Kris sat while he went to the bar.

Archie stood awkwardly beside Kris' table, shifting from one foot to another as he did.  Kris looked up at the man but made no other accommodations towards Archie.  It went against Kris' very nature but it was justified.  Kris had sent notes this last week, countless notes and a bottle of the finest brandy to congratulate Archie on his promotion and all had been ignored. 

"Kris," Archie started.  Kris could see him reaching for words, his mouth opening and closing.  "I...  I need to apologise.  I was rather hasty in jumping to judgement.  Not that I should have judged you, at all, I mean...  I'm rather making a mess of this apology, aren't I?"

Kris watched Archie squirm under his gaze, relenting as his friend started picking at a rather painful hangnail, "Just a little.  Have a seat, Archie, and let’s put this whole mess behind us."  Kris smiled and kicked out a seat, "Congratulations on the promotion."

"Oh...  Yes...  Well..." Archie looked embarrassed, "It's nothing."

"Lieutenant Archuleta, that isn't exactly nothing," Kris sipped at his rum, "Another step up the ladder."

"And one I didn't earn," Archie sat down heavily, "It's frustrating.  What little good will I'd earned disappeared as soon as those papers were nailed to the wall.  If I didn't know better, I'd think this was part of some grand plot by my uncle to keep me bound to a desk."

"Are you so sure it's not?" Kris asked, his finger tracing the rim of the glass.

"No, but then why bring Captain's to court me for their ships?" Archie shrugged.

Kris was saved from answering by Cook's arrival.  The taciturn man put his tray down on the table and lifted off the ales and the extra glasses.  Kris took the tankard closest to him and sampled the ale.  It was decent enough, not watered down too much and still with the honey-kick that he liked so much.  Kris nodded to the man and the gesture was returned.  They faded to silence as Enoch continued his tale.

"Hell it was on that ghost ship," Enoch's voice carried easily and every one of his listeners hung on his words, "Insubstantial beings bound to their evil ways, and we were forced to live and work beside them, surviving on what little food we'd scavenged from _The Hawk_ before she was sunk.  Even rum was rationed down to the barest sup."

Gasps came from the men around the fire, hushed words of outrage at such a crime.  Archie made to open his mouth, but Kris held up a hand.  Cook rolled his eyes as he realised what story the man was weaving.

"We were made to sign the articles on pain of death.  Our own blood binding the contract.  Not sure if any man can take berth on another ship ever again for each was bound tight, his soul forfeit if he broke his word," Enoch let his voice fall quiet and everyone leaned in.  Even the gruff bartender was hanging on Enoch's story, giving up all pretence of work.  "I'll tell you this though, and no word of a lie about it, no man has yet tried to leave port.  No man who signed the articles has stepped foot on a ship, leave alone tried to sign on.  They know better than any what bindings are on them.  Even the Lieutenant, Mister Allen, now that them that's in power have realised that he had nought to answer for, hasn't signed on to any ship, or that young pup Midshipman either.  Telling sign that, and no mistake."

Cook's hand on Archie's arm was all that kept the man in his seat. 

Kris smirked, "You should have been in earlier.  We were treated to the entire tale of _The Hawk_ 's defeat.  By his reckoning, we were done for as soon as _The Madness_ appeared on the horizon."

"Do you recognise that man?" Archie asked, looking to both Kris and Cook.

Kris shook his head, "No, he's not one of the men who served on _The Hawk_."

"Or _The Madness_ ," Cook added.

"Then how can he know what happened?" Archie asked, indignation shining brightly in his eyes.

It was Cook who answered that question, "That's Old Enoch.  Travels around from tavern to tavern telling stories and sometimes singing songs in return for a pint of ale or a glass of rum.   Never travels to any of the taverns the officers frequent but he's known all around Charles Towne.  If you were to believe him, he's been on every ship that's ever sailed the ocean, including ones where there've been no survivors.  That he's claiming _The Hawk_ as one of his ships isn't any wonder.  Apart from those who were there, there's very little talk of what happened aboard.  All the men know that it's their necks if anything gets out."

"But... But... He can't just..." Archie was sputtering, "I have a mind to go over there and..."

Kris poured Archie a large rum and pushed it over, "Drink this and don't let it bother you.  Just think what Enoch's words are doing to the legend of _The Madness_.  It's a tonic to hear a version of the story so steeped in mystery.  Why I feel almost vindicated.  Against foes such as the dead men of _The Madness_ , how could we even have contemplated victory?  And as for the monstrous Captain Lambert, first amongst the Devil's spawn...  Well, we're lucky that he didn't hold us as sacrifices to whatever Dark Masters he serves,” Kris chuckled, "It all adds fuel to the fire and personally, I'll take a few tall tales in the local tavern which may make for an easy surrender rather than a hard pressed fight.  I'd quite like the Captain in one piece with all of his faculties intact for when we meet again."

Archie's head whipped around to look at Kris, eyes wide, "But you said..."

"I said a lot of things and I may not have been entirely honest about everything," Kris shrugged, "A week is a long time to dwell on words, Archie, but I've come to find that there was wisdom in some of the rebukes that you threw my way."

Archie straightened, smiling, but Cook caught his eye and Archie wilted again, "Yes, well, be that as it may, I shouldn't have said what I did.  It was uncalled for.  I'm sure that you've given the situation a lot of thought and did not need my input into the whole horrid mess.  Also, it was pointed out by someone whose opinion I've come to rely on and value as most precious," his eyes flicked to Cook, "that I was not being a very good friend when I said the things I did."

Kris waved away Archie's apologies, "Think no more on it, Archie, nor you Cook.  It was the wakeup call that I needed.  I cannot return home these days but my mother is following me about with bits of fabric or bits of paper, and honestly, I'm not sure which is worse.  I've decided that I need to tell Katherine about what happened on the ship.  She's been my friend since we were children and is very dear to me, but I cannot and will not allow her to go to the altar blind to the fact that my heart is somewhere else.  It's unfair to her and it does her a disservice.  I'd like to think that she'd be happy for me.  She certainly didn't hold back when she asked me if the two of you were involved."

Archie had made the mistake of taking a sup of his ale.  Kris' words caught him so by surprise that he ended up spraying the mouthful out and across the tavern.  Kris dug in his pockets for a handkerchief and handed it over to a slack-jawed Archie.  Cook's eyes had narrowed a fraction, assessing Kris.

"You jest, surely," Archie tried to pass off Kris' words with a forced laugh.

Kris shook his head, "No, on my honour, when we were returning from the Admiralty, she asked.  I told her nothing, of course, nor would I in so public a place.  Nor in private either, before you wonder.  It's not my secret to share.  I deflected her queries and laughed it off as imagination, but she may wonder once I reveal my own heart's path.  Just to warn you, she's a tenacious woman and almost a rival to Maya."

Cook picked up his tankard and sat back, cradling the tankard in his hand as he considered the situation.  Archie's eyes flickered to Cook, gravitating towards his lover at every opportunity.  Kris left the men to their thoughts for a moment, his own eyes watching the group by the fireplace as Enoch started another of his tales.  It was about a ship that had floundered on the rocks almost twenty years ago only to free themselves of the shallows and go on to capture two French ships on the same night.  It was a story that had been around since Kris was a boy.

"So tell me of these Captains courting you," Kris asked, "Are you tempted by any of them?"

"They're all fine men," Archie answered, diplomatically choosing his words, "with great service behind them, and each better than the last.  Captain's of First Rates all of them, but I shan't sign with any of them.  They're making offers to appease my uncle, I'm sure of it.  I'm a very _political_ officer to have on board.  Any Captain who signs me will have instant leverage with the Admiralty here in Charles Towne and back in Whitehall.  My problem, I'm sure, is that none of them want me for my experience, my skills or for my own accomplishments, and I will not serve on a vessel like that.  I've had my fill of that."  He sighed heavily, "What about you?  Have any ships caught your eye yet?  I imagine that it'll be a First Rate for you this time, maybe one of the new hundred-gunners.  Walsh is looking for a good First Officer and Carlisle's Second Officer is due to retire any time now.  My word, Kris, but to serve with them...  It would be glorious."

Kris hated to shatter his friend's illusion, so he prevaricated, "No, Archie, neither man has approached me.  There are plenty of ships in port that have caught my eye, but none have been right for me."

"I understand," Archie nodded, "It's hard to top _The Madness_ , isn't it?"

"That it is."

Kris stared fixedly at the tabletop and at his drinks, not daring to meet Archie's eye.  Archie didn't notice, but Cook did.

His voice was low when he spoke, "Which ships made offers, sir?  Perhaps if Archie has offers from the same ship you could work out an arrangement.  At least then, there'd be someone on board who appreciated that Archie has much to offer a ship."

"That's a wonderful idea, Cook, wonderful," Archie was looking at him again and damned if Kris didn't want to give him a damned good thrashing for his cheek.

"I'm not sure that would..." Kris hesitated.

"Oh Kris, you simply must tell me.  You were an excellent mentor.  I wouldn't be half the man I am today if you hadn't given me guidance.  Say you'll agree," Archie’s brown eyes were wide and Kris couldn't help but make the comparison to a puppy.

Kris murmured his answer, "None."

"What?" Archie asked.

Kris raised his voice a fraction higher, not wanting to answer, and glared at Cook, "None, Archie, none have offered me a berth."

"Why ever not?"

"From the few words the Commissions Officer has cast my way, I'm simply not a good prospect.  Captains want officers of good moral fibre and with an unblemished record.  I was told that I have neither," Kris could feel his anger rising again, the bitterness biting at the back of his throat like bile, and struggled to keep his voice low, "I've gone back every day in the hopes that there might be something but in the past few days that little weasel has called every man before me irrespective of when they arrived and has even gone so far as to shut the window when it was just me sitting in the room."

"How can he do that?" Archie looked outraged and Cook sat ready to throw out a hand to force the man to keep his seat, but Archie was thinking.  Kris could see the wheels turning as Archie's political side came to the fore, "You simply cannot allow such slights to stand, Kris.  I shall make an appointment for you with my uncle.  His clerk fancies himself a would-be suitor for my affections."  A low growl came from Cook, but Archie was speaking again, "Would you like me to prepare you some remarks?  A short speech perhaps?"

Kris shook his head, a smile on his lips, "I think I can put together some words, Archie."

"Very well," Archie didn't look convinced, "but make sure to stress that the verdict was clear and that your idleness is costing the Admiralty good money.  Leave him only two possible outcomes - a berth on a ship or freedom.  Either will be a victory and where you go, I will follow."

"Archie, you cannot..." Kris shook his head.

"And why not?" Archie demanded, his voice rising.  Kris raised a hand in warning and Archie lowered his voice again, "I was more alive on _The Madness_ than I ever was sitting behind a stack of papers.  I lived in no man's shadow and if I made mistakes, they were mine to fix.  Besides, I would live in a place where I do not have to hide my desires."

"The truth at last," Kris glanced to Cook who was simply looking on amused.

"Think what you will, Kris, but I had ears," Archie sighed, "I knew what the men said about me the second I stepped aboard _The Hawk_.  There was none of that on _The Madness_.  I was no more than any other man, living as part of the crew and working side by side with them.  I thought that I knew ships from all I'd read, but I was nought but a liability, likely to walk straight towards trouble with no inkling as to the dangers.  I learned more in those short weeks than I could have imagined," his fingers reached out towards Cook but drew back just before they touched, ever mindful of appearances, "and I long to return...  But, until we can both cast off the Navy blue, I will stand by your side and face whatever fate throws our way."

What could Kris say to that?  He couldn't fault Archie's logic and if he'd been in his friend's shoes, then probably he'd have taken the same tack and hurried to sign on with a friend who wouldn't judge him just on his name, but deep down, Kris suspected that he'd be more likely to receive his walking papers than be assigned to a ship.  At least that would mean that he'd be free to track down _The Madness_ and rejoin her crew.  He sighed and drank down his ale, lapsing into small talk and gossip with both Archie and Cook.  Cook's honest assessment of the happenings around the port left Kris with a smile on his face that stayed with him until he arrived home and fell asleep at some dawn-early hour of the morning, and that night, the nightmares stayed away, leaving him with dreams of life and love on _The Madness_.

 



 

When the knock came on the door the next morning, Kris had to unbury himself from mounds of pillows and duvets, and unwrap himself from the sheets that had him bound from hips to ankles.  It was a complicated procedure and more taxing than his rum-soaked mind could manage.  He rolled and turned and cursed when he managed to manoeuvre himself right off the bed and onto the cold, hard floor below.  It was only then that he noticed that he was naked as the day he was born, a remarkably unusual thing for him now that he was no longer sharing space with his lover.  Clothes lay scattered on the floor from the door to the bed.  It was obvious that he'd simply disrobed and then burrowed his way directly under the blankets the previous evening. 

"Kris?" Katy's voice carried through the door, and Kris started.

"Yes," the words came out strangled as Kris grabbed for a pillow to cover himself. 

"Are you alright?  I heard a thump. Are you injured?  Shall I come in?"

"No!" Kris' voice was an octave higher than usual as his eyes watched the door handle intently, ready to dive for cover should it make any moves.

"I need to talk to you," Katy spoke softly, "It's a matter of some urgency."

"I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes," Kris started towards his wardrobe.

"Your mother..." Katy's voice trailed off, "Oh Hell..."

Kris heard the squeak of the hinges and swung around to face the door.  Katy was in and closing the door before he could say another word.  She spun to face him and Kris' hands moved to cover himself, his cheeks heating.

"Katy..." Kris dared not move, dared not breathe.

Katy turned to face the door, "Oh...  Oh... I didn't realise that you were... Oh."

Sarcastic remarks were the first to come to Kris' mind.  What the Hell had she expected?  This was inappropriate.  This was beyond inappropriate.  If any of the servants caught them, there would be scandal.  Katy would be marked as a harlot to all who would listen and Kris' mother would have no choice but to cast her from the house.  That was not what they needed, not with a threat still hanging over Katy's head.  He was about to say just that to Katy when another knock came on the door.

"Yes?"  Kris called.

How could this get any worse?

"Kristopher," it was his mother's voice, "Are you up?  Have you seen Katherine this morning?"

There it was.  He should learn not to ask questions like that.  Katy was shaking her head fervently, her blonde ringlets flying out as she did.

"No," Kris answered, trying to sound sincere given that he was looking directly at her, "Maybe she's headed out.  I think she said something about the..." he struggled and Katy turned to mouth something at him but Kris couldn't make out the words, "Woman's Guild?"

"The what?" his mother asked, "What's that?"

Katy glared at him and gestured at him to give some sort of explanation.  Kris' mind blanked as he groped for something, "It's a guild...  For women?"

There was a frustrated sigh from the other side of the door, "Honestly, Kristopher, I don't know what that girl sees in you sometimes.  You're going to have to pay more attention to her else she'll walk out with someone else and leave you high and dry at the altar.  Communication is important, dear, you need to listen when she speaks.  Take your father and I, for example.  That man listens to my every word as I listen to his."

Paying attention wasn't an issue that they needed to deal with.  At the moment, Kris was paying avid attention to Katy, as was she to him, much to Kris' embarrassment.

"Yes mother," Kris agreed, "I'll work on it."

"See that you do, Kristopher."

Kris listened to the retreating footsteps until he heard the creak of the stairs and slowly released the breath that he was holding.  Katy was on him in a second, hugging him close.  The starched fabric, scratchy against his skin, very soon reminded him of the fact that he was unclothed, not that he'd forgotten, but Katy seemed to have.

"Um, Katy, could you...?" Kris used the cover of her skirts pressed tight against him to free a hand and make a circular gesture.

"Could I turn around?" she frowned, "But why...  Oh!"

Her cheeks flushed red and she turned to face the wall.  Kris wasted no time in pulling on breeches and a shirt and making himself fractionally more presentable.  He had to smile though as he thought about the situation.  Naked in a room with his fiancée and he was merely flustered.  There was no heat firing his blood.  There was no arousal.  His mind turned back to the last time he was naked in another's presence and he blushed as he remembered Adam's hands, his mouth, his lips.  He sighed.  He needed to tell Katy the truth, no matter the consequences, and he needed to do it soon.  First though, he needed to find out precisely why she'd barged her way into his room and was avoiding Kris' mother.  He hadn't heard of any disagreements between them, but that didn't say that there hadn't been any.

"You can turn around now," Kris told her and she did, tentatively, peeking through her fingers to see that he truly was dressed.  Kris gestured to one of the plush chairs beside the window and bade her sit down.  "Now, tell me what has you knocking at my door so early in the morning."

"It's just shy of noon," Katy pointed out.

Kris looked out at the port and saw that people were indeed out and about, going about their daily work and the sun was high in the sky.  Brushing a hand through his hair, he smiled, "I was out in town with Archie and Cook last night.  We must have stayed out a lot later than I thought, although I'll admit freely that I was a little past my best."

Katy smiled a half smile, "I'm sure you were.  Be thankful that you went up the back stairs rather than the main rise.  I heard the songs you were singing last night.  It's a good thing that your mother didn't hear them or else you'd be with me in her bad books."

That made Kris pause and he leaned forward, "Has something happened?"  Katy bit her lower lip, catching it between her teeth.  There were the ghosts of tears in her eyes and Kris took her hand, "You can tell me, Katy.  Please."

"She thinks me an ungrateful daughter," Katy blinked back the tears.

"I'm sure she doesn't," Kris tried to comfort her.

Katy shook her head, "I've been avoiding her since last evening.  I claimed a headache and retired early just after supper, then rose early this morning and had my breakfast before either she or your father were risen and I've hidden from her since."

"But why?" Kris wasn't following Katy very well but he was sure that she hadn't actually told him the base reason.  "What's happened?"

Katy looked down, hesitating to meet Kris' gaze, "My father's had it put about town that my mother is quite ill, that she's taken one of her turns and that I have refused to return home to care for her.  He's all but said that I've turned my back on my family.  Your mother was cornered by one of her friends while we were out yesterday and told of the rumours.  Immediately, she started making plans for me to return to my father's house.  I can't, Kris, I just can't.  I know that if I cross that threshold that I shan't escape it.  The next time I leave, it will be in a box cheap as he can make it, or worse."

Kris squeezed Katy's hand, trying to comfort her a fraction as he tried to plan out some solution that might work.  He dearly regretted that second bottle of rum.  There must be a solution which would work to keep Katy safe and appease the vicious tongues that wagged around Charles Towne.  Kris knelt beside Katy's chair and pulled her to him, holding her as she struggled not to break.  There must be something.  Must be. 

The answer came to Kris in a painful flash of inspiration, the perfect way to balance family commitments while insuring Katy's continued health.

"Bring my mother with you," Kris suggested, "Tell her that you are scared, that your mother's fits have been getting worse over the years.  From the rumours about town, that would not be a stretch of anyone's imagination.  As much as I hate deceiving her, we must play on my mother's affections.  You're a daughter to her, marriage or no, and she would do anything to support you.  Ask her to accompany you, that you are not sure you have the skills needed to see her back to health.  Keep her with you.  I know she'd cancel an appointment with God herself if one she loved asked her, so that will be no matter.  Take the days to care for your mother for the while she needs it and then use the wedding as your reason to return here in the evening," Kris could scarce believe that he was suggesting this but if it helped, then so be it.  "Mother has lists and lists of things that need to be done, use the evenings to go over those details."

Katy tilted her head to the side, "You're using our wedding as an excuse?"

Kris felt a little guilty under her gaze, but held fast, "I'd use the setting of the sun as an excuse if I thought it would help, love.  I'll not see you alone with that paltry excuse for a man with no one but your mother for protection.  I can go with you also, distract him from the fact that you are once again under his roof, but there are places where I cannot go and he can.  It would be best with my mother, love, and I think you know that also."

Katy nodded, "Yes.  You're right, of course.  Do you think it would work though?  My father's not one to let his plans be thwarted easily."

"He hasn't tried to cross my mother yet," Kris let the corners of his lips curl up, "And that is a fight I'd pay to see.  This may well backfire on your father, you know."  Katy frowned and Kris continued, "If mother sees that your mother is not sick, or at least not sick enough to warrant someone there to take care of her, she'll make sure that all rumours are stifled and quickly.  Anyone spreading them will find themselves quickly corrected and likely have their own name spread around town faster than they can draw breath to apologise."

Katy had to smile at that.  Kris knew that she'd seen his mother holding court over the women of Charles Towne.  Kris gave Katy one last embrace before moving back to the other chair.  She appeared happier now, more settled and Kris was glad of it.  He hesitated to raise his own issues with Katy, especially while she seemed so raw, so tender.  Perhaps later, once she had seen her mother and the rumours had been put to bed once and for all.  Perhaps then he would raise the subjects of the wedding, _The Madness_ and Adam.  Yes, that would be a better time, Kris thought to himself, ignoring the small internal voice that called him a coward.  It sounded a lot like Bell and Kris didn't particularly want to dwell on why exactly his conscience sounded like _The Madness_ ' First Officer.

"Kris," Katy drew out his name and this time it was she who took his hand in hers, "About the wedding..."

Kris bit the inside of his lip, his stomach falling, "Yes?"

She hesitated for a moment as if trying to find words for her question but eventually she just shook her head, "Nothing."

Watching her, it was clear that she had something on her mind, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong as such," Katy hurried to reassure him, "But..."

"Go on," Kris prompted after she trailed off again.

"Well," Katy stopped again, "I know I asked you this before and that you gave me your answer but, I don't know, I just feel as if there's more to it."  She fixed Kris in her gaze and stared up into his eyes, "I'm asking you to be truthful here.  You don't need to spare my feelings or any such thing, but Kris, I must know.  How do you feel about the wedding?"

Opening his mouth to give the same answer as before, Kris found that he could not.  He closed his mouth and sat back in his chair, wondering how best to phrase his words.  He needed to be delicate but firm, and damned if he didn't wish that Adam was here beside him.  The man had a way with words without equal and whatever Kris said would likely pale in comparison.  However, Adam was not here and Katy was still watching him.

“I know that before I said that I was excited but...  I fear I gave the answer that I thought you wished to hear," Kris pressed on before Katy had a chance to say anything, "When I gave you my promise to marry you, I meant it and I will marry you before God and the Admiralty and every person my mother sees fit to attend and I will make my vows to you but my heart will not be truly in them.  They'll be just words.  I don't mean to hurt you, and I hate that I _am_ hurting you.  Please, before you say a word, let me explain," Kris took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.  "I met someone, a special person who captured my heart.  I never expected it, never thought it would happen, never _intended_ it to happen but these things always seem to sneak up on you when you aren't looking.  It’s not a love I can speak of, not really.  Different social strata does not even begin to describe the differences between us.  We are worlds apart but that's not the only reason that I can't be open about this and I must ask you to keep my secret, Katy.  Please.  I'll be your husband and, God Himself mark my words, I'll try my damnedest not to break my vows but I'm not sure that I have the strength.  The one that I love...  There are no words to describe the feelings, Katy, no words.  How I would love to introduce you, but I fear that can never happen.”

Katy smiled, rubbing a thumb over the back of Kris' hand, "Never say never, Kris, darling.  I think I'd like to meet your Captain.  From the tales that have filtered up from below stairs, he seems a most interesting man."

“My...” Kris choked, “How did you...?”

"Really, Kris," Katy's lips quirked up, "Must you ask that?  I'm not unobservant.  You don't speak much of your past voyage, but when you do, there's no rancour to your voice.  It's dry fact, and I think I know you well enough that I can recognise when you are limiting yourself.  Take the trial for example," she said, "You could have cursed your pirate captain from one end of the Admiralty to the other and taken any lack of face out on his reputation, but you didn't.  You portrayed him as a fair and just man, ensuring that the Admiral saw that, but what I saw was the look that came over your face when you spoke of him, like a fire warming you from the inside."

"That was just..." Kris tried to brush aside Katy's words, to deny them, but she was having none of it.

"Just nothing, Kristopher Neil Allen," her voice was rising now, a stern expression settling on her face, "You love the man."

Kris sighed, "I do.  Lord help me, but I do."

Katy relaxed at that, the smile coming back to her face, "Well, good.  If I'm to lose you to anyone then I'd prefer to lose you to one who holds your heart.  It's my bet that he returns your love."

"I like to think so," Kris was hesitant, "But I don't know.  It's been months since I last saw him.  His fancies may lie with another now."

Katy's lips drew down into a moue of disapproval, "Is he a fool?"

"What? No!"

"Or one of those cads who flies from skirt to skirt just slaking his needs and then moving on?"

Kris shook his head, "No.  No, I don't think so."

"Then he's likely as miserable as you and counting the hours until you return," she sounded sure and Kris held fast to her words, praying that they were true.  "So, who knows of your affair?  I'm betting that Archie and that delightful boy of his, Cook, are aware, but who else?"

Kris' cheeks heated, "Um...  To be honest, most if not all of the crew that returned with me from New Providence."

Katy nodded, considering, "Well, that is a little complicated, but I doubt that they'll say anything.  They haven't so far and they hold much love for you."  She paused, thinking and biting her lower lip, "We'll need to organise a supper soon, or maybe a dinner, just the two of us along with Archie and Cook.  There are _things_ to discuss, matters that need to be addressed."

"What things?  What matters?" Kris asked, thoroughly perplexed.

"It's obvious that I cannot simply leave the matter to you," Katy smiled, "Two months you've sat here in port, miserable.  Two months and nothing.  If we're to get you reunited with Captain Lambert, action needs to be taken and I'll bet that once we get down to it, the four of us can come up with a plan guaranteed to reunite you with your pirate captain."

Kris' heart and stomach fell at that.  He should have known that Katy would not have been content to simply leave the matter to stand unattended.  Perhaps he could feign illness and avoid this intended supper meeting, or he could _be_ ill, if necessary.  A plague, a fever, anything seemed better than the prospect of leaving Katy loose with Archie to plan his future. 

Oblivious to Kris' despair, Katy carried on, "So, dearheart, tell me everything.  I'll need to hear whether this Captain Lambert is worthy of my fiancé.  Start at the beginning and don't leave out a single detail."

Kris sighed.  There was a gleam in her eye that quite worried Kris but as she sat back in her chair, Kris knew that there would be no moving her until she got whatever it was that she was after.  Resistance would do nothing but awake her ruthless side and this early in the morning, and with the effects of last night's tavern trip still playing around his head, Kris found it easier to cave to her demands.

"It was after we'd captured _La Rochelle_..."

 

[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)


	4. A Commission at Last

 

[ _**** _ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

  
_**31 st August 1710** _   
_**The Allen Residence, Charles Towne, Carolina** _

 

"Sir, a letter for you," Simon, a footman in the Allen household, held out the envelope on a silver tray.

To Kris’ eye, it looked to be addressed in Archie's neat writing.  Thanking Simon, he broke the wax seal on the back of the envelope and drew out the sheet of paper.  As soon as he read the words, he was forced to bite back some rather spectacular epitaphs. 

"Is something wrong?" Katy's voice came from behind him.

Kris forced himself calm, "No, my dear, nothing of consequence."

Her eyebrow darted up, "Then why do you look as if someone's just invited you to your own wake?"

“Maybe because that’s how I’m feeling,” Kris held out the sheet of paper and she took it.

Katy scanned the letter before reading it aloud, " _Dear Kristopher, further to our meeting two evenings ago, I have secured for you an appointment with my uncle for this afternoon at two o'clock.  Be advised that though formal dress is not required, it would be appropriate and make the proper impression.  Bear in mind the points that I raised previously and, no doubt, you shall be successful.  Please reply to this letter as soon as you have leave.  I shall be waiting for your reply at your earliest convenience.  With kindest regards, David Archuleta, Lieutenant, R.N._ "  She looked up at Kris, "I don't see what has you so concerned.  A meeting with the Admiral is precisely what you need to get this whole commission mess sorted out and get you assigned to a ship."

"Yes but..." Kris started.

Katy was already calling Simon back and giving him instructions to lay out Kris' best uniform.

"Now, up you go and get ready," Katy shooed him up the stairs, following at his heels, "Do you know what you're to say?  Would you like me to go with you?  I can wait in the foyer while you see Admiral Gielham."

"No," Kris answered just a fraction too quickly and Katy paused, looking a little hurt at the instant dismissal.  Kris smiled, trying to soothe her, "I think that this is something that I have to do on my own, Katy, and I’d much rather you stay here, safe from that rogue who tracks your movements.  I couldn’t bear it if you were to come to harm simply because you were unattended in the Admiralty building.  Besides which, Archie already offered advice on how to address the Admiral.  I've always been able to think on my feet and I think that in this scenario, that skill may serve me well.  I don't want the man to think that I'm nothing without notes and pre-written speeches, or give him any excuse to think me less a man than I am.  No, I'll go to him and simply state my case and whatever the verdict, I shall live with it."

Katy stepped close to him for a moment, checking that there were no others around and went to her tip-toes to kiss his cheek, "We shall live with it, darling.  No matter what.  It will work out for the best though," she smiled, "I have a feeling and you know that I'm always right."

"Yes, dear," Kris smiled and embraced her for a second before turning and continuing to his room.

 

 



 

It seemed like no time at all before he was knocking on the outer door of the Admiral's office.  The Admiral's attendant, a young Lieutenant a few years his junior who Kris recognised by sight alone, bade him enter and then directed him to a seat before turning back to the files stacked high on his desk.  He had made no attempt at conversation or small talk.  The man didn't even glance in Kris' direction and Kris didn't know didn't know whether such disinterest boded ill for his interview.  Kris held his hat in his hands as he took the offered seat, fingers playing with the gold braiding in an attempt to keep from fidgeting but it was in vain.  Nerves had been his constant companion since he’d received Archie’s letter.  Kris tried to at least settle enough to put up a convincing façade of calm, but he feared that he was not fooling even the wet behind the ears Lieutenant who sat behind a desk that dwarfed him. 

Kris looked around, taking in the pictures and various ornaments that appointed the large reception room.  There were double-doors to the north and south of the room and deep mahogany wood lined the walls.  It seemed the Admiral favoured pictures of famous naval battles, great victories captured in oils rather than the ornate portraits of heroes that hung on every other wall of the Admiralty.

Behind the Lieutenant hung a masterpiece of colour depicting the battle of La Hougue, Captain Alan Bell’s ship, the _HMS Britannia_ , taking on the French ship, _Le Soleil Royal_ with other ships during the engagement at the Point de Hommet in 1692.  A glorious day in British Naval history beautifully captured by the artist.  Other paintings hung on the walls showing engagements from the great victory at Sluys, France in 1340 to Drake’s _Golden Hind_ sailing proudly against the backdrop of the Spanish Armada. 

Kris looked at each in turn, and each was beautiful with clear lines and truly epic stories behind the oils, but there was something that kept drawing his eye back to _The Britannia_.  Kris didn’t know what it was but something niggled at the back of his mind.  The Lieutenant fidgeted as Kris looked at the painting above his head, turning once to glance at the painting, probably to ensure that it wasn’t about to fall on his head, and Kris smiled.

Eventually, a bell rang and Kris was directed to enter the Admiral's chambers.  He tucked his hat under an arm and straightened his jacket before wiping his hands on his breeches just in case the man wanted to shake hands, doubtful though it was.  After a moment's pause, Kris pushed open one of the double doors and stepped into the room.  As soon as he had closed the door, he turned and stood at attention, his eyes fixed straight ahead as he waited to be addressed.  It was nerve-wracking to say the least but Kris did not move, did not twitch even as the Admiral refused to acknowledge him.  Kris could hear the scratch of a quill nib against paper, but Kris did not look down.  He refused to break protocol even as the minutes ticked away.

Kris counted silently to keep himself distracted and he had just crossed five hundred and fifty when the Admiral finally addressed him.

“Lieutenant Allen comma Kristopher Neil, formerly of _The Hawk_ , formerly of _The Madness_ , is that correct?” Admiral Gielham’s voice was a nasal whine that set Kris’ teeth on edge.

“Formerly of _The Hawk_ , sir, and held hostage on _The Madness_ ,” Kris corrected.

In the Admiral’s mind, there was probably no difference but if Kris was to get a commission, he needed to ensure that the Admiral understood that his loyalty was to the Navy without question.

“Hmmm…” Kris could feel the Admiral’s glare on him, “Perhaps.  Are you aware, Lieutenant Allen that I have here on my desk a total of seventeen letters, petitions if you will, demanding that I retry you on all charges?”

“No, sir,” Kris kept his back straight, even as sweat pricked at his palms.

The Admiral pulled a folder out and let it fall on the desk with a quiet thud and then untied the red ribbon holding it shut, “Seventeen letters from ranking members of the British Navy, Captains, Admirals even, all demanding that I send a message to any officers out there who let themselves be forced into a situation such as the one that you were in so that they know that death was preferable to the dishonour that you brought Captain Forrester, _The Hawk_ and the British Navy, and I must admit that I am tempted, sorely tempted, to acquiesce to their demands.  What do you say to that Lieutenant Allen?  Should I retry you?”

Kris didn’t know how to answer that.

“I am a servant of Her Majesty and serve in Her Majesty’s Navy entirely at Her pleasure, sir.  As Her duly appointed representative here in Charles Towne, I shall, of course, present myself for court-martial immediately should you order me retried.”

The Admiral did not seem pleased with his answer and Kris feared that he had crossed the line into insubordination.

“I have a great respect for your father, Mister Allen, and it is out of that respect that I have decided not to give credence to these requests,” the Admiral pushed the file to one side slightly and sat back in his seat.  “So, Mister Allen, what, may I ask, is the purpose of this meeting that my nephew went to great lengths to arrange for you?”

Kris swallowed down a cough of surprise, “It’s… Well, sir, it’s about my next commission.”

“You’re not happy with it?  Well, that’s too bad, Lieutenant.  I think you can guess that there aren’t many Captains who would be happy to have an officer on board with a history of handing their ship over to pirates.  I may have decided not to lay further charges against you, but do not mistake that for kindness of any sort towards you.  If I’d had my way, Fletcher would have found you guilty and I’d have presided over your hanging, boy.  Take whatever fifth rate ship has offered for you and be happy with it,” the Admiral spat the words out.

Kris was taken aback by the harshness of the man’s tone.  He knew that the Admiral had no fond feelings for him but to hear the vehemence in his voice and the cold hatred in his words, Kris was momentarily stunned.

When he spoke, Kris stammered, “No… No… No, sir, it’s not that.  I mean to say that…”

“Pirates took your tongue, boy?” Gielham sneered, “Your words came well enough through the trials.  Honeyed they were, but now you can’t even string two words together.  Stop wasting my time, Lieutenant.”

That snapped Kris back to himself and he took a second to square his shoulders and face the Admiral down.  Archie was right, there were a number of options and Kris had nothing to fear from any of them.  Either he was going to be dismissed on the spot or hanged when the Admiral reversed himself and decided to try Kris again, but no matter what, both were more honest options than pandering to an Admiral that hated him.  Damn the man, he’d speak his mind here and damn the consequences.

“I can speak well enough, Admiral Gielham.  Your assumptions are incorrect though,” Kris barely drew breath, pushing on before the Admiral could open his mouth, “I have not been offered a commission since my court-martial found in my favour.  Though it may be an unpopular opinion, Admiral Fletcher dismissed all charges and it is so noted in my naval record.  However, this has not stopped your Commissions Officer from ignoring me, going so far as to slam the door in my face on one occasion.  I have gone, with my peer officers, to the office daily in hopes of obtaining a new commission as I am instructed to do by the Naval Code of Conduct.  However, day after day, I have watched the greenest of officers get choice commissions while I am neither called nor looked upon by the Commissions Officer.  In all honesty, I do not truly care to which ship I am assigned but by God and Her Majesty, I am a Naval Officer, sworn and bound by my oaths, and I would have a commission rather than simply sit in port on half pay rotting away.  If there is no commission, then assign me duties here in the Admiralty.  I did nothing wrong, that has been proven by court-martial and, irrespective of the seventeen letters that sit on your desk, that is an immutable fact.”  Kris took a breath and calmed himself, aware that he was seriously overstepping himself.  Admiral, with all due respect, I just want to do my duty.”

“I hardly think that a judgement of ‘Not guilty but I recommend that you not do it again’ counts as innocent of all charges, Lieutenant,” Gielham ground out the words through clenched teeth. 

The man’s fists were clenched and his temper visibly simmered just below the surface.  His face was red, sliding towards purple and he was hovering on the edge of his seat, as if ready to fly across the desk at Kris.  Kris raised his chin a fraction but made no other move.  He was standing his ground and nothing short of the Hounds of Hell would make him move.

It was with a sneer that Gielham continued, “However, paying you to laze around and make wedding plans sits ill with me and gives a bad example to the many good officers that I have under my command.  The only ships in port at the present are not suitable, though, as each Captain has sent me a letter saying not only that you should be retried but that they refuse to have you aboard their ship, contaminating their crew.  Did you think at all, Lieutenant, that there may be a good reason that the Commission Officer did not call on you and that the reason may be that they simply have no sponsoring Captain available willing to take you onboard?  I doubt that it crossed your self-obsessed mind.”

“It did, sir,” Kris nodded, “But, again with all due respect, Admiral, commissions are outside my remit.  I was not getting satisfaction going through the usual channels and so I have arranged a meeting with the most senior officer in the Admiralty to address the issue.”

“Had one arranged for you, you mean,” Gielham snorted.

Kris could have answered that with a sharp remark concerning how one of the tenets of getting things done in the Admiralty was simply engaging who you know.  By asking Archie to arrange the meeting, he was doing neither more nor less than any others, and he guessed that the Admiral knew that and was simply hoping to spark Kris in such a way that dismissal, court-martial, imprisonment and maybe even death were the only options left to the Admiral.  Kris did not intend to make it that easy for the man.  If he wanted Kris out of the Navy or in prison, then damn it he was going to have to work for it and Kris would fight with everything he had.

“Nothing to say to that, boy?” Gielham prodded.

“No, sir.  You’re correct.  I asked one of my fellow officers to arrange the meeting for me and I’m grateful that I did,” Kris was overstating that significantly.

The Admiral glared at him, saying nothing for a moment but then he smiled.  Rather, it was a caricature of a smile, cold and with venom behind it and it was all Kris could do to hold back a shiver.

“Grateful, eh?  We’ll see about that, boy,” Gielham dug through the paperwork on his desk and pulled out another folder, this one unbound and practically flung it at Kris.  Kris caught it easily but didn’t look down at it for that would have meant taking his eyes off the Admiral.  “It just so happens that I have the perfect commission for you.  Given that no Captain will take you aboard, then it seems as if I shall have to give you a ship of your own, shan’t I?”  Gielham settled back against the stuffed back of his chair and steepled his fingers, “I remember when we captured her, the suggestions of what to name her came from all quarters.  The _HMS Colossus_ was a forerunner but we decided against it in the end.  It would be a little boastful, don’t you think?  _Gauche_ as the French would say.  It is rather the purpose to which she is put than the length of her hull that matters, is it not, Lieutenant Allen?”

“Aye, sir,” Kris said carefully.

The Admiral pulled out a blank page from a stack to his right and scribbled something on it that Kris could not read.  Before Kris could take another look, the Admiral folded the note and put it in an envelope, sealing it with wax and pressing his seal to it.  Once he was done, he held the envelope out to Kris and said, “For the Harbour Master.  Present that to him and he’ll take you to your commission.  Stocking and crewing the ship will be your responsibility.  I hope that such tasks will not be beyond you, Lieutenant.”

“No, sir,” Kris’ heels snapped together and he transferred both the folder and the envelope to the hand still keeping his hat tucked under his arm.  “By your leave, Admiral, I’d like to review the ship and get started on the necessary tasks.”

The Admiral dismissed Kris with another chilly smile.  Kris for his part, snapped off a perfect salute, turned on his heel and left the Admiral’s office.  He had a ship.  That was all that mattered now, and a command of his own.  There was nothing that could take the gloss from the day.

 

 



 

The ship, when Kris saw it, was enough to make him pray that somehow, by some miraculous means, the harbour master was mistaken, but even as he read the faded and chipped paint on the stern, he knew that he wasn’t.  Kris had suspected that the Admiral's smile boded ill and so it had.  The wreck before him could barely be called ship.  Damnation, it could barely be called a wreck.

“There she is, _The Dainty_ ,” the harbour master reached out to pat the side of the ship, wincing as his hand found a splinter, “Needs a bit of spit and polish, a little elbow grease, but she’ll be good as new with a bit of lovin’ care, you mark my words.  Thought I’d never see the day that someone was assigned to her.  Used to be a good ship, that one, before the French got their greasy, froggy fingers on her.  Used to make the Boston coast in two months with a good tail wind.  Will you be needing me to show you her decks?”

Kris shook his head, “Thank you but no.  I’ve taken enough of your time as it is, sir.  I think I need to get to know the lady here and start my inventories.”

The harbour master touched the brim of his hat, “As you wish, Lieutenant.  I’m just a yell away if you need me.”

Kris nodded and waited until the harbour master had vanished from sight before breathing out and cursing the Admiral’s ancestry.  _The Dainty_ was supposed to be a sloop-of-war, a support vessel that did little more than coastal runs between ports, but given her condition, it would be a while before she would be leaving Charles Towne, if she ever did. 

From where he stood beside her, he could see clear through the side and into the cabins below decks.  Large holes gaped in her sides and, even where the timbers were whole, there were gaps large enough to put your hand between the timbers.  Hasty patch jobs were easily visible and, by Kris’ reckoning, badly done.  He walked alongside the length of her, running his hand over the few boards still in good condition.  The stern chaser ports made him gasp.  They looked as if they had been hacked off.  In fact, Kris could make out the axe strokes in the surrounding timber.  He shook his head.  Mistreated was the first word that came to mind when he considered her.  If she were an animal, she would have been put down to spare her suffering. 

Possibly, Kris considered, he was being a fraction melodramatic, but if this was the condition of the parts he could see, he hesitated to see the rest of her.  However, if she was to be his, it was his duty to see how badly damaged she was and to, at least, start planning on how best to fix her up.  It would take time, certainly, and money.  Kris doubted that the Admiralty would put forward much in the way of financial support, but Kris was resourceful.  If the Admiral thought that this would kill his spirit, then he was sorely mistaken! Admiral Gielham, Devil take his soul, would not best him.  Kris clenched his fists and made for the gangplank. 

She rocked unsteadily as Kris stepped onboard and Kris stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes scanning over his ship and her sorry state.  The sheets and lines were held together by the last vestiges of the ship’s pride and not much else.  When the wind shifted to blow through what little rigging was left, Kris could spell the stench of rope rot. 

“What have they done to you, lass?” Kris whispered, his voice lost to the breeze.  “How did they let you get into such a state?”

The ship creaked in reply and Kris gingerly made his way forward, stepping carefully as he went.  As with the side of the ship, the deck was a danger.  Where planks should have been flat and firm, they were bending upwards and dangerously bowed.  Sections of the deck would have to be ripped up and re-laid, others sanded down and refinished.  A corner of sail flapped noisily in the breeze, the rope supposed to fetter it long gone.  As Kris looked up, he could see the ratty, discoloured fabric.  The sails were, in places, badly bound, ropes obviously snapped through so that they hung free to catch whatever wind blew.  Frayed edges were clearly visible, and mould and mildew seemed to stretch as far as he could see.  Tears in the fabric were large enough that Kris could see whole clouds through them when they moved just so.

Running a hand through his hair, Kris sighed.  Already, lists of tasks started to fill his mind, items that needed to be done.  He’d need to strip the ropes, pull down the rigging, change the sails, engage a carpenter.  The list seemed endless, but Kris was confident that by the end, _The Dainty_ would be sea ready and damn whatever blocks the Admiralty put in his path.  Kris had money of his own and if that was what it took to repair his ship, then he’d use it.  The Admiral might have intended this be a put-aside assignment to put him in his place, but to Kris it was an opportunity. 

Kris pulled off his coat and looked around for somewhere to hang it.  An unused hook on the mast caught his attention and he hung the coat there.  To the credit of the hook, it stayed where it was for a good two seconds before the hook gave up the ghost and its grip on the mast, and Kris’ coat went crashing to the deck, the hook dropping down to bounce on the white of his lapels, leaving rust stains in its wake.  Kris looked at it for a moment and then started to laugh.  A more fitting metaphor for his current fortunes could not be imagined.

Picking up his coat, he tossed it on top of the railing, watching it for a second before tucking his hat slightly under it.  Rolling up his sleeves, he settled down to work.  Debris was picked up and tossed onto the dock.  Sections of rope that were completely unsalvageable were untied and sent over the side to lie with the debris.  Any decking loose enough to pull away without the use of tools were pulled up.  Kris even went so far as to grab a section of good rope, shin his way up the foremast and start untying the stays for the sails.  He left the shrouds in place, although he wasn’t quite ready to test them.

He worked hard, his fingers cramping against the steel-tight knots as he struggled to untie them while holding fast to the yardarm.  Weevils crawled over his knuckles as he disturbed their rope nest.  He squinted in an attempt to see the knot detail and how the rope was caught and practically crowed as he got the last one free.  The main topgallant floated down to the deck and Kris straightened up.  Proud, Kris straightened. That was the last of the sails that he needed to free.  Below him was a wealth of off-white sailcloth, badly weathered and in need of both cleaning and proper repair.  They would serve as reserve sails once he got them in a fit state, but for now, he intended on folding them and dumping them on the dock.

“Ahoy, the ship,” a voice called up to him, distorted by the distance.

Kris strained to make out the details of the people below.  He blinked once, twice and then looked out to sea.  The sun was already half-way below the horizon.  No wonder he was having difficulty making out details.

“Ahoy,” Kris cupped his hands to his mouth and called back.

“Permission to come aboard.”

“Granted,” Kris called back down, “but keep watch where you step.”

Kris started to move back until he could feel the mast behind him.  From there, it was a perilous task to make his way down.  He was out of practice, but the knack came back to him quick enough, and well it should.  Kris had been doing this since the day he turned eight and his father rewarded him with a short trip up the coast to Virginia.  He was on the ship for a month and after the first half-week, his father’s boatswain had taken him under his wing and taught him the jobs of every man Jack on the ship.  Back then, he’d thought the reason was affection.  Simkins had been his father’s boatswain for as far back as Kris could remember.  As he’d grown up and been assigned to a ship of his own, he realised that Simkins was just keeping him out from underfoot, making him something less of a liability, but the skills that man taught him had stayed with him his entire life and they’d come in handy more than a time or two. 

“Oh my Lord, Kris, your clothes!” Katy’s voice came strong and shrill and Kris started, missing his footing and almost falling from the mast. 

Kris looked down and saw Archie hushing her.  Cook was at the base of the mast, arms reaching up to steady him as he climbed down the rest of the way.  Kris thanked him with a nod and Cook stepped back. 

Archie stepped forward tentatively, taking care not to trip over the folds of the fabric.  Katy followed his footsteps, lifting her skirts as she went.  Behind her Ellie looked over the deck and raised an eyebrow.  He fancied that he could hear her tutting. 

“Katy, what are you doing here?  It’s getting late.  You should be home, warm,” Kris chided gently.

“Nonsense.  Where else would I be?  The carpet was getting well worn as I waited for you to come back home following your meeting,” Katy’s hands found her hips and Kris knew that trouble was coming, “Lieutenant Archuleta and Mister Cook have been sitting in our parlour for the past six hours, waiting to congratulate you on your newest commission, but neither hide, hair nor note came from you to explain where you were.  You’re just lucky that Lieutenant Archuleta has contacts willing to provide information.”

“Time got away from me this evening,” Kris apologised, “I didn’t mean to stay here so long.  I didn’t mean to stay here at all, truth be told, but once I saw her, I couldn’t leave her in that sorry state.  I didn’t even notice the dark until Archie called up.  I am truly sorry, Katy, and to you as well, Archie and you,  Mr. Cook.”

“Think nothing of it,” Archie brushed away Kris’ words, distracted as he toed the sails under his feet.  “She really is a mite poorly, isn’t she?  Mould, rot, broken and busted.  I’m not sure it wouldn’t be easier to simply fire a few cannon at her and put her out of her misery.”

Kris took a couple of steps backwards, clutching his chest to fake an injury, “Archie!  How could you say such things about this jewel of the seas?”  He reached out to pat her mast, “Don’t listen to him, beloved, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.  He’s nothing but a cad and a philistine.  We’ll dress you up in new finery and you’ll be the belle of the waves again in no time.”

Katy looked to Ellie and tried to school her features to a stern mask, but Kris saw the mirth shining through, “And to think, he’s running away with another woman before he’s said his vows.  What is a girl to do?  Do you think, perhaps, that if I made a dress of finest sailcloth and bound it with ropes that he might pay me a little attention, Ellie dear?”

Kris smiled and walked over to her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, “My dear, if you did that, I fear that all the merchants and seamstresses in the town would empty the stores of sailcloth and I’d never be able to see this ship right.”

“Then, I shall have to settle with silks and sateens,” Katy sighed dramatically, “For I’m not sure you’d forgive me for leaving your lady short.”

Kris laughed at her antics and offered her his arm, “Come gentlemen, and ladies, and let us retire for some music, some conversation and speak of how I’m going to get her ready to slip her moorings and out of the harbour.”

Archie looked more than ready to leave the wreckage that was _The Dainty_ and return back to the Allen’s house, but Cook had a look on his face that Kris recognised.  The man was running his eye over every surface and calculating a tally of work.

Kris nudged Archie and in a low voice, muttered, “You may have lost your man for the evening.”

Archie turned to look at Cook and sighed, “You may be right.  No matter.  Why don’t you go ahead and escort Katy home and I’ll stay here with Cook and see whether or not I’ll be able to drag him back at a reasonable hour.”

“Nonsense.  There’s no need to escort me home.  There’s work to be done here and I’m sure that between all five of us, we can get this boat cleaned up in no time,” Katy smiled.

“Ship,” the correction came from all three men in the same instance.

“Boat, ship, at the moment, she’s nothing but a mess.  Ellie, could you and Cook go to the harbour master and ask him for a brace of lanterns, please?”

Kris smiled, shaking his head as he watched Katy issue orders as if she were a Captain, formally gazetted and assigned to this ship.  It seemed little matter that she barely knew stem from stern.  There was something of the Admiralty in her manner, though the First Lord would surely gape to see her acting so imperious.  Cook tipped a knuckle to his forehead and helped Ellie down the gangplank, hurrying to carry out her orders.

“Now, gentlemen, what’s to be done first?” she asked.

Kris considered for a moment, “We need to get these sails folded up and out of the way before we can do anything else I expect, but then there will be lists to be written, notes to be made of what supplies we need from the merchants come the morning, letters to be sent to each merchant, and that’s even before we start the process of fixing her.  I’ve stripped what I could from her in terms of the sails, the rigging and the deck, but I haven’t even chanced to go down below for fear of what I would find there,” he sighed. “The task will be tough but I have no doubt that she’ll turn out to be a beauty once we’re done.”

“With you as her commander, she’ll be the envy of every other vessel in port,” Archie clapped him on the back.

Kris shook his head, “You’re exaggerating my skills, I fear, but I thank you for your confidence.”

With that, they got to the task of folding the sails.  Kris took one side and Archie the other and folded them roughly.  Katy directed from the sidelines and more than once, tried to grab a corner from one or other of the men, but each time she was sent back to the railing to simply watch.  In truth, Kris did not want her catching her ankle and turning it.  At least Archie and he were relatively practiced at stepping carefully.  Of course, Archie took that moment to land himself in a lump and Kris was sorely tempted to send him to sit harmlessly beside Katy.

Thankfully, Ellie and Cook returned quickly, carrying one lit lantern each and a bundle of brass ship’s lanterns in the other hand, tied together with rope for ease.  Kris smiled as Cook handed the lit lanterns to Archie and neatly divested him of the sails.  Folding then became an easy matter of tuck and tuck and toss over the side. 

“Assessments next,” Kris decided, “and if we don’t want to be here all night, we’d best split into two teams.  Cook, can you take Archie as your scribe and look at the lower decks working up from the stores and the ballast.  I’ll start with the higher levels, from the deck down, if I can press Katy into taking notes, and meet you somewhere in the middle.  Ellie,” Kris paused, trying to find work for Katy’s maid.

“Don’t worry yourself about me, Mister Allen,” she smiled, “I’ll stay by Miss Katy.  Never know what trouble you folks would get into without me there to keep an eye on you.  Besides, begging your pardon, Mister Allen, this ship has seen better days and if the rest of her’s as much in need of a clean as what I can see here, you and Miss Katy are going to be needing my help to keep from stepping through the decks.”

Cook handed over some sheets of paper and pencils that he’d procured from the harbour master and carefully picked his way down the stairs, Archie on his heels.

“Ellie could take you home,” Kris spoke freely now that his friends were out of earshot.  It’s getting late and I’m sure that Mother will be worried about you.”

Katy smiled, “I’m staying here until you leave, Kris, and your mother knows where I am.  She even went so far as to tell me a story about how she helped your father do just this very thing after he pulled into port following a hard-won battle.  She’s left instructions that food be kept ready for whatever time we get back and one of the cooks is sitting up to wait for us.  She understands the situation.  Now, where are we to start?”

Kris gave her one last long look.  It seemed that the women in his life were going to have the last say in this and if that was the case, then who was he to argue?  His father had taught him long ago to recognise when he was beaten. 

“Tackles, runners, shrouds, jeers, sheets, staysail halliards,” Kris spoke, pointing out some of the lines that he’d stripped earlier. 

Katy hurried to write down all the terms, Ellie beside her repeating what Kris said at a slower pace and double-checking the list.  This was going to be a long evening, but there was hope on the horizon and that was all that Kris needed.

 

 



 

Midnight came and went, and still there was more work to be done.  Archie had taken Katy, Ellie and Kris’ lists and disappeared down to the mostly acceptable wardroom to start collating the lists so that Katy could begin on the merchant notes.  Kris watched them go and then went to join Cook below decks going through the stores.  Like the rest of the ship, well, it was a mess.  The store rooms hadn’t been cleared out when _The Dainty_ docked, and now, there was a multitude of bundles in various states of decomposition: dried foods, grains, cured beef festering with maggots.

“How could they not clear this out?” Kris asked as he pulled down another wrapped bundle.

“Damned fool laziness,” Cook shrugged and sat down on one of the bags of grain.  Kris sat down beside him, thankful for the moment’s rest.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”  Cook asked. 

Kris nodded, “You don’t have to ask that, Mr. Cook.  I welcome your opinions.”

Cook smiled at that and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, “ _The Dainty_ ’s been in port for the past month.  Idle talk around the port is that she was due to be broken up and scrapped after the Lieutenant in charge was killed.  The French gave her a hiding last time she was out and she’s not big enough to defend herself without a smart man at the helm.”  Cook smiled over at Kris, “She’s going to be a scrapper, short skirmishes at most, but more than anything, I’d wager that she’s going to be a support vessel.  It’s been a while since I was on anything less than a ship of the line, but well, sir, with your permission, I’d like to sign onto your crew.”

Kris was already smiling from Cook’s compliment, and accepting the man was certainly no hardship.  He was embarrassed to admit that he’d taken it for granted that Cook was going to sign on.  From the conversation they’d had in the tavern, Kris suspected that Archie’s intention was to apply for a billet aboard and where Archie went these days, Cook was sure to follow.

“Of course, Cook.  You didn’t even have to ask.  I’d be happy to have you aboard.  I should have asked you earlier, but yes,” Kris enthused, “although, I’m not sure that I can have you as a Petty Officer as you were before, Cook.”

Cook’s shoulders slumped a fraction and the man did his best to hide his disappointment, “I understand, sir.  I imagine that the Admiral has tied your hands on such matters.”

“The Admiral?  No,” Kris shook his head, “No indeed, this is entirely of my own doing, pending your agreement, of course.”

Cook looked up, puzzled, “Sir?”

“Cook, I’ll need a Chief Petty Officer to manage the men.  You’ve proved yourself to have a good head on your shoulders and valuable counsel in times of crisis.  You’ve never lost your wits in the middle of trying circumstances and I find you to be the steadiest of men.”  Kris wasn’t simply returning the few but moving compliments that Cook had passed his way.  This wasn’t some trite massage of the man’s ego, merely the truth.  “Back when I was just a young Lieutenant under Forester, I remember the Captain handing out promotions.  From where I stood, the men had done nothing exemplary and honestly, I was baffled as to why Forester was rewarding them when there were others amongst the crew who had excelled in battle, done the practically impossible.  When I asked him what these men had done to be raised through the ranks, he answered very simply.  Every morning, he said, they are up before their watch stirs.  Every morning, they wake their men, though they get no thanks for it.  Every day, they watch over the men beside them.  Every day, they watch over the ship and all who sail on her.  They take the time to teach their fellow shipmates and make sure that they do their duties to the best of their abilities.  They take the time to teach the young boys how to tie knots and climb the rigging.  Every day, they lead the men through their actions, and, by their training and by their lead, they enable the men to do the impossible, because those men know that at their back stands a strong team lead by a stronger man, ready to fight through Hell itself to keep them safe.”

Kris paused, a smile on his lips, “Those words stuck with me.  It may embarrass you to know, Mr. Cook, and I apologise if it does, but when I think of those words, I think of you.  You’re a quiet man, I know, and not one to waste words, but every time I’ve looked for you, you’ve been at work even when it wasn’t your watch.  Every time we recrew, you have a trail of young boys following on your heels waiting for your next lesson.  When someone is having trouble, you’re there, helping them out.  The work that you have done with Archie even...” Kris shook his head, “well, I doubt that he’d be half the man he is without your tempering.  The Admiralty doesn’t make decisions about promotions at the lower levels.  It’s left to Captains and Commanders.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Kris smiled, “but we’re on the ship that I’ve been given command over, and I think it’s long since time when you should have been given the honour.  So what do you say, Mr. Cook?  Will you be my Chief Petty Officer?”

“You make it hard for a man to say no, sir,” Cook was looking down at the deck, “but if it’s a condition of sailing with you, then aye, sir.  I’ll take on the role.”

Kris slapped his back heartily, “Good man.  Now what say we get out of here before the worms mount a mutiny, and tell Archie the good news.”

Cook smiled at that. Kris made his way carefully back up to the wardroom.  The decking was battered and buckled here too, as it was all over the ship, and the stairs were missing more steps than they had.

“Archie, Mr. Cook has something...”

“Shush!” Archie’s harsh whisper cut him off.

Kris was on his guard immediately, but Archie simply pointed to the bureau, to Katy leaning over it, her head cushioned on her arms and her eyes closed.  Kris smiled.  He was used to long nights – so were Cook and Archie – two days without proper sleep, running on nothing but nerves and bad coffee, but Katy?  Katy wasn’t.  Kris was tempted to wake her just so that he could call a carriage and send her home but he’d just have her temper to face whenever he crossed the threshold.

Kris looked between Archie and Cook as Cook stepped sheepishly into the room and bit his lip.  Kris glanced around the room and to the cabin beyond, his cabin.  Gently, he pulled the chair back and carefully lifted Katy in his arms and brought her to the cabin.  A nod to Ellie had her following and leaving the two men to share their news.  The bunk was little more than flat wood, but Ellie laid down a cloak over the surface.  Kris placed her down and brushed a strand of hair from her face.  Ellie held out his coat and Kris thanked her, placing the heavy garment down over Katy’s arms and shoulders to keep the chill from her. 

Ellie smiled at him and rested a hand on his arm, “You should get some rest too, Mister Allen.  Dawn’s on her way and none of you boys have had any sleep, or anything to eat.  That’s not good for growing boys.”

“No one but my mother calls me a boy, Ellie,” Kris kept his voice quiet.  “I’m fine.  Thank you, though.  We won’t be much longer here, I think.  I’d like to get the letters to the merchants first thing so that they can start to work on the orders, but the repairs will have to wait until I hire a crew.”

“That they will, sir,” Ellie nodded, “It’s not good to try to do every man’s work yourself.”  She paused and pulled one of the chairs closer to the bunk before sitting down heavily. “Best you go remind the boys that there are others present before they get too carried away.  Such things aren’t good for an old woman’s heart, you know?”

“How...?” Kris’ question trailed off.

He wondered if men such as they wore signs about their necks proclaiming to the whole world that they were different or if there were some invisible scent that they all gave that identified them as something _other_.

“I have eyes, boy,” Ellie laughed lightly, “and I am a woman of the world.  You’d pale if you’d seen half the things that these old eyes have seen.”

In that instant, sitting there, one hand resting over Katy’s and a smile on her face, Ellie put him in mind of Maya and a wave of melancholy hit him with a force that left him shivering in its wake.  If Ellie saw it, she said nothing, just shooed him from the cabin and closed the door behind him.

Kris was glad to see that Cook and Archie were doing nothing more than holding hands.  He wasn’t sure that he could have borne anything more intimate.

He coughed gently to get their attention, “Archie, my apologies, how go the letters to the merchants?”

“Just finishing the last, Kris.  They’ll be ready to send at first light,” Archie pushed some papers towards him and Kris glanced at them.  “Katy did a fine job.”

Kris smiled, but feared that it looked like a grimace on his face, “I’m going to go up on the deck and grab a few breaths of fresh air.  We still have some time.  You’ve worked hard tonight, both of you, and thank you for that.”

Archie looked concerned and stood to reach out to Kris, but Kris ducked his hand, trying to make his smile real.

“Is something the matter, Kris?” Archie asked, “You can tell us.  It’ll go no further, my word on that.”

The urge to speak was overwhelming but Kris shook his head instead, “I’m fine, Archie.  Just tired.  Fresh air will fix me.”

Archie looked dubious, and Cook was no more convinced than Archie was, but they left him go, sharing a look between them as he left.  Kris picked his way up to the deck and stood beside the rail, letting his eyes pick over the rubble beside the ship.  Dawn was, indeed, close, no more than twenty minutes, by Kris’ reckoning.

Sighing, Kris walked the deck until he faced out to sea.  Somewhere out there, somewhere beyond the horizon where the morning sun was starting to rise, _The Madness_ sailed under black sails.  Somewhere out there, Adam was probably sleeping, dreaming, and Kris prayed that, one day, their paths would cross again.  He prayed for a glorious reunification, for unrestrained passion and for love.  More and more, these days, it seemed as if he were missing something vital.  In moments of weakness, like this moment now, he wished that he had stayed with Adam on _The Madness_ , that he hadn’t been the selfless fool and that he had claimed one moment for himself. 

In moments like this, when his heart was a hairsbreadth from breaking, he wished that he never had the idea to stay on New Providence.  Luck and skill had been on their side, and with a favourable wind, they could have hugged the coast to escape together.  In moments like this, given the choice, Kris would be more pirate than gentleman and claim his prize; but wishing did not make it so, and wishing did not make it easier. Kris sighed again. 

Closing his eyes, he thought of Adam, of sparking blue eyes and pale, perfect skin, and sent every ounce of love that he possessed out to his pirate Captain.  Wishful thinking or not, hope carried him on and hope alone gave him strength.

“Ahoy the ship,” a man’s voice called out, breaking Kris from his thoughts.

Kris crossed to the gangplank and looked down.  Ten men stood there, jostling as they smiled up at him, men that Kris knew as well as his own family.

“Begging your pardon, Lieutenant Allen, but word in the port is that this is your ship and that you’re looking for a crew,” one of the men, Smithy, called up. 

“Aye, Smithy, I am,” Kris waved them to come up, “but I’ve not posted anything up yet.  How did you hear?  _Where_ did you hear?”

“There’s a notice up with the harbour master, sir,” Smithy pulled off his cap as he stepped onto the deck.

The next man on, Josiah White, whistled as he stepped off the gangplank, “Christ be our Lord, Lieutenant, but someone shovelled you a pile of shite, didn’t they?”

Smithy elbowed him in the side to shut him up but Kris could only laugh, “Aye, Jos, they did.  I’ve been working on it all night with Mister Archuleta and Mister Cook.  You should have seen her before we started.”

“No doubt, sir,” Jos nodded, “Well, not to worry, sir, with us lads on the case, we’ll get her knocked straight in no time flat.  You tell us where you want us to start and we’ll take care of it.  Should be some more boys here shortly.  They stopped off to say their goodbyes to their wives.  Be here by dawn, sir, no lie on that.”

Kris was stunned speechless.  The men moved past him, already spotting work that needed to be done, and each one had some encouraging word to share as the shook his hand.

“We’ll get ya fixed up, sir.”

“She’ll be like new in no time.”

“Neat as a new pin and no mistake.”

“Just leave it to us, sir.”

More men were arriving at the dock and with a nod and a handshake, they were working too.  Kris could not believe that so many of his former crew were back and eager to sign on with him again.  From _The_ _Hawk_ and _The Madness_ both, the men came in ones and twos and then in larger groups as the sun rose.  If this kept up, he’d have a whole crew before breakfast. 

Kris stood back and let them work.  After a few minutes, Archie came to stand beside him.  Cook fell to work calling out orders and directing the men’s actions, and for a moment, Kris could see _The Hawk_ through his tired eyes.  Admiral and Admiralty be damned, Kris was going to have a ship second to none in the Navy.

 

 



 

Five days later, Kris walked the decks looking over his ship as she now stood.  The men had done a fine job getting her seaworthy.  They’d each given up their shilling and Kris had given each man a share in the ship.  It had gone a long way towards paying for the supplies that they needed, seeing how the Admiralty was dragging its heels when it came to paying the bills.  The decks shone brightly under the sun, newly sanded and varnished.  Bright white sails were unfurled just enough to catch the breeze.  The Red Ensign flew at the stern, proud and strong, and lined up along the railing, men stood and were waved off by their families.  Kris had said his goodbyes earlier and taken the opportunity to share a few words with his father about Katy’s situation. 

Even though Katy protested, his father had engaged a few of the men that Kris had not been able to sign on to _The Dainty_ for her protection.  They were only too happy to help out their former Lieutenant and were eager for work.  Kris didn’t like leaving Katy here but the Admiralty had given him his first assignment.  With the men accompanying Katy, and by extension, his mother, her father wouldn’t dare to move against her.  Kris had quietly spoken to the men and told them what to look out for.  He’d also told them that no matter the situation, both he and his father would be on their side, and to err on the side of caution.  If blood was to be shed, then they were to shed it with the promise of the judicial might of the Allen family behind them, complete with solicitors, barristers and a good defence.  It was enough to calm Kris’ mind.

“Lieutenant Allen, sir,” Smithy called, “there’s a lady on the dock asking for you.  Should I let her up?” 

Kris frowned, wondering who it could be.  His mother and Katy had promised not to come to the docks today.  Who else could it possibly be?

“Aye, Smithy,” Kris nodded as he headed towards the gangplank, “Best help her up just in case.”

Smithy nodded and headed down the plank to offer his arm to the lady.  Kris paled as he saw Mrs. Archuleta.  Kris reached out to grab one of the men, “Find Lieutenant Archuleta.  Get him here now.”

The man scarpered off and Kris reached out to help the woman down the step from the gang plank.

“Mrs. Archuleta, what a wonderful surprise,” Kris smiled at Archie’s mother, “How wonderful that you came to see us off.  I’ve sent for Arch… David.  He should be along at any moment.  There are always a thousand and one things to be done in those last few minutes before we cast off.”

She looked him up and down for a moment and then turned her gaze around the ship, “You’ve done well with this ship, Lieutenant.  She’s going to be a credit to you.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Kris nodded.

“But it’s not just David that I came to see off,” her voice dropped low, “I’ve a few words for you also before you leave the port.”

Kris inclined his head.  Thankfully at that moment, Archie appeared from below decks and came right over.  Kris left them to exchange words in relative privacy.

“Tide’s turning, sir,” Jos pointed out.

“Yes, it is.  Won’t be long now.  Start to make ready.  Have men standing by to cast off just as soon as we get our last guest ashore,” Kris ordered.

The man saluted and left.  Kris walked to the helm and left instructions there.  Through the men, Kris saw Samuel keeping the boys together at the bow of the ship, safe and out of the way as he told stories of pirates and sea battles.  Kris smiled.

It was a good feeling to have his crew together but he was missing his boatswain still.  Since that day in the Admiralty, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Cale and he was worried.  No one had heard tell of where he was, and no one could point him in Cale’s direction.  If the man didn’t show up shortly, he would be forced to assign someone else as boatswain, as much as Kris was loathe to do that.

Archie caught his eye and beckoned Kris over.  Kris went grudgingly.  Archie’s mother, though a delightful woman, put Kris uneasily in mind of her Admiral brother as her eyes turned on him.  There were calculating depths to her and over the past few days she’d been turning up at the ship to speak to Archie at the oddest times. 

“Kris, my mother has a few words that she wishes to say to you,” Archie looked apologetic.

“Of course,” Kris inclined his head, “Ma’am?”

“Before you leave to travel the seas, I have a warning for you,” she started.  Kris instantly straightened, fully attentive as she continued.  “I place the health and wellbeing of my son entirely in your hands, Lieutenant Allen, but know this,” she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone that had Kris’ hair standing on end, “if so much as a single hair on his head starts to curl in the wrong direction, I shall take the bluntest knife in my possession and separate you from everything that makes you a man and then, just to shatter any false hopes that you may have of restoration, I will see to it that the severed member is filleted and fed to the Admiral’s hunting dogs.  Do we have an understanding, Lieutenant?”

Kris gulped and nodded.  That had not been the warning that he had been expecting but he was sufficiently apprehensive that he could do nothing but move his head, and even that was a challenge.  The woman had quite a way with words.

Mrs. Archuleta, apparently satisfied with his answer turned then to Archie and smiled, “Now David, don’t forget to wrap up warm.  Those coastal winds can be quite vicious.”

 _‘They’re in good company,’_ Kris thought to himself.

The thought was uncharitable but Kris could already feel himself retracting, shrinking in self-preservation.  On the outside, Archie’s mother, and it helped to think of her that way, seemed loving to a fault, but this side of her would do well on the deck of a battleship staring down the French.  No doubt, a threat, such as the one that he’d just received, would have them handing over their swords before a single shot had even been fired.

Kris watched her go, Archie accompanying her to the dockside, and started to call out his orders, “Prepare to cast off.  Pull up the gangplank.  Slack away the mooring lines.  Prepare to heave off the mooring lines.”

The orders were echoed back and forth, confirmations and clarifications added, and Kris could feel _The Dainty_ rocking under him as they went. 

“All lines slacked, sir,” Cook spoke quietly from beside him.  “Ready to cast off.”

“Cast off,” Kris nodded, “Give the order to the men to row us easy out of port.  Sails to full and as soon as we pick up the wind, let’s get them back on board.”

“Aye, sir,” Cook nodded and stepped away to oversee the men on the dock loosing the last of the ropes and then shimmying up them to the deck.

Kris looked out to the sea and to the two small rowboats that led them away from the port.  A larger ship would usually start further out, clear of the flat of the dockside, but with _The Dainty_ small as she was, he had to put his men to work to draw her out further so that he could pick up a breeze. 

“She’s looking well, sir,” came a voice from beside Kris’ ear.  He jumped and spun to face his missing boatswain.

“Cale, you dog.  Where have you been?” Kris’ cheeks hurt, his smile was so wide, “I was starting to worry that you weren’t coming.”

“My apologies, sir,” Cale had the decency to look a mite shamed, “I was up until midnight last night, aboard another ship.  Almost didn’t make it.  The tides, the winds, everything was against us, but we put in just up the coast from Charles Towne and I did everything I could to get here before you left.  As it was, I was only just at the dock when I saw the ropes being raised.”

“Glad to have you, Cale,” Kris said and meant it.  “Stow your gear and grab some rest.  It sounds like you need it.”

“I’m fine, truly,” Cale shook his head, “I’ll stay on deck until we get out to sea, sir, if that’s alright.  Given that I’m rather late to the party, best to let the men see me before I disappear below decks.”

“As you wish,” Kris clapped him on the back, “Damn, man, but it’s good to see you again.  Once you’ve rested, we’ll speak, I’m sure.”

“Aye, sir,” Cale smiled and then had one of the lads bring his gear below as he went to check the lines to the rowboats with Cook.

Kris smiled.  He had his whole crew back.  He hadn’t needed to press a single member of his crew, they’d all come within hours of each other, each ready and willing to do whatever job he had for them.  Others had come after that, that was the nature of a naval town, but Kris had to turn them away.  They’d groused and grumbled but headed off back to the taverns to curse the cruelty of the world.  As it was, Kris had a crew at his back that he trusted.  Of course, it was always a possibility that one of them, or perhaps more, had been turned.  He’d err on caution’s side for the first while until he had leisure to take the measure of the men again, but then it would be back to regular duties for all of them. 

 

 

  


 

Their first trip was a supply run up to Chesapeake Bay, to Portsmouth.  It was close enough that they could weather any storms in the sheltered inlets of a familiar coastline but far enough away to give the ship the shakedown trip that she needed after all the work that had been done.

Five days out, and the wind was picking up, starting to knock _The Dainty_ askew slightly until they evened out the sails.  She was less forgiving than a larger ship and the men were still finding their way around her many quirks.  Kris put them further out to sea, avoiding Cape Fayre, more out of concern for the weather than any superstition, but the men still crossed themselves as they rounded the point of the coast.

They were settling well and picking up speed when the first call came from the Crow’s Nest.

“Ship to starboard, Lieutenant,” Samuel called down.  “Can’t see much yet, sir.”

“Good lad,” Kris called back up, “Yell down when you see her colours.”

Kris sent for Archie immediately and Archie stepped to his side just a few moments later.  Both men looked out to the open sea and to the ship that sailed there.  Drawing out his spyglass, Kris focused on the vessel, trying to pick out colours or signs.  It was too close to land to be the French or any of their allies, or at least that was what he hoped.  With the war heating up in Europe, most of the fighting stayed firmly on that side of the ocean with only minor skirmishes in the Americas. 

“Trouble, do you think?” Archie asked as Kris handed over the spyglass.

“I truly hope not,” Kris shrugged.  “It may be a merchant, or some other peaceful traveller, but I’ll admit that I’m nervous.  Twelve guns of varying size won’t be enough to see off anyone, even if we score every hit.  I’d put her closer to shore but I know that this section is treacherous at this time of year.”

Archie nodded, “Indeed, but if she _is_ unfriendly?”

“Then we seek whatever shelter we can and weather their attentions as best we can,” Kris answered, taking the spyglass back and looking again. 

They were closer each time he looked and from this angle he could see nothing but white sails and the prow of their ship.  They were making for shore most likely, Kris tried to assure himself, but even as he thought the words, he knew they were false.  There were no ports along this stretch that would explain the ship’s course.

“Have the men stand ready,” Kris called over his shoulder, “Ready the gun crews but stand easy, men.”

Kris didn’t move from the deck, trying his best to bury his worry beneath reassurance and commands.  The air was tense, the men holding fast as the unknown ship edged closer.

“She’s English,” Samuel called out and there was a palpable sigh of relief.  “White and red at the stern.”

Kris looked again, breathing easier now, but something didn’t seem quite right.  He focused and refocused his spyglass.  Her lines were British, true enough, but Kris focused more on the colours for that was the truer test.  Red and white pennants, solid red and solid white flew from the masts and that wasn’t standard.  She looked military but there was something...  The wind caught it and laid it out.  Until then, it was a match for the ensign, but it lacked the detailing in the top left square.

“She’s Genoan,” Kris announced, “an ally but keep your stations.”

She came closer and now, it was evident that her course would put her on an intercept with _The Dainty_.  Kris looked at her lines again and smiled.  She was a frigate, and familiar, very familiar.  Kris nudged Archie and handed the spyglass back.  Archie frowned and raised the glass. 

“Is that...?”  Archie asked.

Kris nodded. 

“Well, damn me,” Archie breathed, “How did she know where we were?”

“Do you want to know that?  Or shall we find a tavern and hear that the Devil himself spoke to the Captain?”

Archie laughed.  Kris looked around the ship, to the men, and saw the recognition dawning on their faces.  The gun crews did not stray too far from their guns but they relaxed a fraction as they watched the ship that every man knew to be _The Madness_ sail closer. 

“Keep your stations, men,” Kris called out, “She may look like _The Madness_ but I’d hate to run afoul of her if she changed hands.  Wait until we see her crew before you toss your caps in the air.”

The men sobered.  Ships were captured and repainted with the turning of the tide, and that many a fool had run into trouble while looking for friends.  Best that they not take anything for granted until they saw a familiar face.  Kris hoped that he would see Adam’s face at the railing, looking down, his blue eyes twinkling.

Fate had other ideas though, and instead, as _The Madness_ drew close, they saw a very pretty bird fluttering at the bow.

“Hail the ship,” Kris cupped his hands to his mouth and called, “This is the _HMS Dainty_ , out of Charles Towne.  State your identification and your business.”

“’scusi,” Bell, in an atrocious attempt at a Genoan accent, called back, “We are _La Follia_ , a Genoan ship caught in a storm.  We are,” he gestured wildly, and it was all Kris could do to keep a straight face, “lost.  You come aboard and help us find, on the maps, yes?”

Kris turned to Archie and in a low voice instructed, “Keep an eye on the men.  Any that look as if they are taking too much undue interest, take their names and we’ll deal with them later.  Just because we know each man aboard does not mean that they are not on the Admiralty’s payroll.”

Archie nodded, “Go aboard, Kris.  Take Cale.  I’ll stand watch here with Cook and watch the ship, and the men.”

Kris smiled, “Any message that you’d like me to carry to the ship?”

Archie thought for a second, “Tell Mister Bell that if he wants to really shine with that accent of his, he will have to roll his r’s more.  That really was quite awful, wasn’t it?”

“I shall pass the message along,” Kris assured him, “but I may possibly wait until I am in the Captain’s presence.  No point in courting disaster.”

“Especially not before your reunion,” Archie winked, and damned if that wasn’t a rather unsettling expression on the young man’s face, “You shall have to give me all the details later.”

Kris blushed.  If their reunion went to plan, Kris doubted that he’d be able to tell Archie anything, but still he nodded and turned to face _The Madness_ again.  Bell was leaning on the railings now, watching both Kris and Archie with narrowed eyes.

“Send down a rope ladder,” Kris called up, “I’d be glad to help you with your situation.”

A knotted rope ladder was thrown over the side.  Kris waited for it to be secured and then started the climb up.  Cale was on his heels, but far enough behind that Kris had a chance to gather his wits.  The ship hadn’t changed one iota since he’d left.  She was shining and well-kept, clean from ‘sprit to stern.  Kris looked to Bell, who stood not ten feet away with a smirk on his face.  With a gesture, he sent Kris towards the ward room.

Kris’ heart started to beat faster and his feet were heavy as lead.  Cale put a hand on his shoulder, and Kris took strength from it.  With a deep breath, he took a step, and then another, and then he was going down the stairs to the officers’ cabins.  Tommy was just coming out of the wardroom, an empty tray in his hand.

“Mister Allen,” Tommy smiled widely, “He’s inside.  I laid out some of your favourites.  Welcome back, sir!”

Kris could only nod, his attention on the door.  His feet carried him forward.  He held his breath, reaching out to touch the door, hardly daring to knock.  He raised his fist but before he could knock, the door opened and standing there was Adam. 

Both men stood there, looking at each other for interminably long seconds.  There was warmth in Adam’s blue eyes, warmth and longing and passion.  Kris had to look away.  He bit his lip, cheeks heating.  His hand found Adam’s chest and then he was lost. 

Time vanished and it was as if he’d never left.  His fears, the nightmares he’d had, all were swept away with that first kiss.  The first touch erased the loneliness that had settled in his core, that chilled him with every passing moment apart from his lover.  Adam was here now.  They were together again and Kris let himself fall into his love’s arms and be swept up in the passion, the love he felt for this man. 

Damned but he had missed _The Madness_ and it’s Master.

 


	5. Boundaries Overstepped and Crossed Lines

__**[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)   
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_**12 th September 1710** _   
_**12 Leagues East of Cape Fayre, Carolina** _   


 

Morning came like the first breath of Spring, fresh and warm after the harshness of the Winter, and Kris stretched languidly, delighting in the wanton aches that pulled at the corners of his muscles.  Though he had not slept long the previous night, telling Adam of everything that had happened since they had last been united, and celebrating their reunion in the most carnal of ways, he felt refreshed and whole again.  The worries and the hardships of the past few months washed off him like salt under rainwater.  No subject had been taboo.  He'd confessed his fears and Adam had allayed them with a kiss, a touch and a promise that there was no one else.  He'd been looking deep into Kris' eyes and there was no trace of lie or falsehood there.  Kris' heart had soared after that and it was only Adam's strong hands that kept him from flying free.

The conversations had been hard, some of them, but necessary and Kris shied away from them but Adam's gentle urgings brought everything to the fore; the wedding, the trouble with Katy's father, the trials, the Admiralty.  Kris had laid it all at Adam's feet while he'd listened, holding Kris close, tucked against his side, and rubbed a warm hand over Kris' bare back.  Though no tears had been shed, it was a close thing and Kris had to take a few moments to recapture his composure.  It was as if he were free once more; that the yokes that bound him were lifted off, albeit temporarily, and Kris revelled in the feeling.  He even turned the tables on Adam a time or two and surprised Adam with his demands.  He stammered and blushed, and probably always would, but he wasn't the blushing virgin that he once was and they had been apart long enough.

Kris blinked his eyes open already reaching out but Adam's side of the bunk was empty.  Kris was covered to the chin with blankets and Adam's white coat was spread out on top of them.  Kris pushed the blankets down but held the coat close.  A hint of leather, the coarseness of forged steel and the harshness of gunpowder clung to the coat but below that was something unique, something that was purely Adam and Kris breathed deep, drawing Adam close and closing his eyes. 

Voices floated at the edge of his hearing, low but steady and Kris reluctantly rose.  He reached for his clothes, folded neatly on Adam's dresser and smiled.  The previous evening, there had been no regard for neatness or creases.  Clothing had been left where it had fallen, stripped in haste and forgotten in lust, but here it was ready and waiting for him, stacked in the order in which Kris dressed.  From beyond the door to the wardroom, the voices grew louder.  Kris tiptoed closer to the door, not quite setting his ear against the wood.  Archie's voice was the loudest but he could hear Bell and Adam answering in quieter tones.  Kris frowned, and then cursed as he realised that he was the subject of their discussion.  His hand paused on the handle of the door, torn between pushing the door open and storming out there and listening to find the truth of the situation and what people, namely Archie and Bell, truly thought.  He knew Adam's position already and was grateful for his understanding.

"But how can you be satisfied with the situation?" Archie asked, "He's to be married and before the end of the year."

Adam sighed, "I understand that you are concerned, but this is a matter between myself and Kris."

"But if he loves you, and by the look on his face when he recognised _The Madness_ , I am sure and certain that he does, how can he agree to marry another?" Archie pushed, "It's disloyal.  He should cancel the engagement and extricate himself from the situation."

"You cannot simply..." Adam started.

Kris could tell that the argument had been underway for some time.  The resignation in Adam's voice, the pitch of Archie's, it all pointed to a circular argument that was spiralling again and again through the same points.  Kris had thought that the matter had been settled with Archie.  Archie had just stopped raising the issue with him and was now hoping for reinforcements in the form of Adam and Bell.

"But surely..." Archie cut in, not yielding an inch.

"How can you stand up under your own power?" Bell's acerbic tone cut through both Adam's attempt to explain and Archie's protestations.  "I know that even a gnat can stand but at the moment, I'm wondering how you can manage to feed yourself or dress yourself if you are honestly that stupid!"

"I'm not..." Archie sounded affronted.

Bell pushed on, not bothering to give Archie any time to reply, "Then are you so blisteringly naive that you cannot see that what you are asking for is a luxury that is available only to a lucky few, a few that are so cut off from society that no one cares who or what they marry?  Given your way, you'd probably say that it would be perfectly tolerable for a man to marry his favourite pig if he claims to love it.  Good Lord, boy, but I had a modicum of tolerance for you after hearing of the case that you put forward to save the man from the gallows, but now, I'm wondering if it was some fluke!  No wonder Cook stays close at your heels.  Who knows what trouble you'd get yourself embroiled in if he left you on your own for more than a minute."

"How dare you..."

"How dare I?  Very easily," Bell cut over him again, "But how dare you?  You claim the man to be your best friend, your only true friend barring your lover, and still you miss the fact that he's no more free to follow his own course than a bird can man an oar.  He must marry and that's all there is to it.  Don't, for the love of brocade, make this harder for him than it has to be."

Kris frowned.  A defence from Bell, of all people, was the last thing that he had expected.  If anything, Kris had dreaded Bell's reaction and his sharp tongue; no doubt declaring to all that would listen that he was unworthy of Adam's affections.  Kris knew that Adam put a great deal of trust in Bell's opinions and he had hoped to address the issue in person.  He was obviously too late for that, but Bell was on his side and firmly so, it appeared. 

"I don't understand..." Archie tried to cut in but Bell gave him no leeway at all.

"That's obvious.  I knew you were from a privileged background but Lord help me, are you sure that the spoon wasn't inserted in the wrong end when you were born?"

"Spoon?" Archie sounded lost, and Kris couldn't blame him.

"The silver spoon that was supposed to be in your mouth, are you so sure that it's not stuck up your arse instead?" Bell bit out the words.  "Perhaps we should ask Cook to hunt it out next time he..."

"Brad!" Adam's voice stopped Bell in his tracks and Kris though he heard a muttered apology.

"Honestly, man," Bell continued after a moment, "just because _you've_ not felt pressure to marry some suitable woman!  Not all sons are the same, and especially first born sons.  The weight of family responsibility hangs from their necks like a noose, ready to choke them if they try to balk."

"I'm sure that..."

"I'm sure that you are," Bell cut across Archie once again, "but I have heard enough of your 'but love' arguments.  Love in marriage is a luxury.  Kris was lucky that his family agreed to honour the commitment that he made and from all I've heard of the lady, Miss O'Connell is a fine lady and a good friend.  To have a friend as your intended is sometimes all that you can ask.  My elder brother, Alex, was lucky in the same way, and luckier still that he found love and happiness with his wife, but my younger brother, Charles, considers the sea his escape.  His was a political marriage, sanctioned by my grandfather over the objections of both my father and my brother.  The wench takes every penny that she can lay her hands on and buys fancy dresses and throws lavish parties while Charles is away."

Kris couldn't hold back the smile.  Bell was complaining about his sister-in-law's spending on fashion.  Considering his own tailor must be a rich man indeed from Bell's custom, Kris had not imagined Bell such a hypocrite.

"Yes, yes, laugh if you must, but at least I work for my money," Bell sounded offended to Kris' ear and Kris could hear footsteps from the room.  "She draws his wages while he is away and he comes back to a measly share, if she's left him anything.  He's captured ships and gotten his share from that only to find it flitted away before he makes it back to his home port.  That's not any marriage I'd wish to be part of, nor would I wish it on any man.  Your uncle is satisfied to prostitute you out to Captains that he wishes to impress but now that you are a Lieutenant, you're a potential prospect and if I were you, I'd expect you to find yourself courted once you return from this mission.  Society _grandes dames_ are going to speak to your mother, and their husbands to your uncle, and before you know it, you'll be engaged and the entire town will sing with the prospect of a society wedding, much as it's doing with Allen right now."  Bell paused, "Before you say a word, Archuleta, let me tell you this.  You have no one behind you.  You are an only child and so you cannot know what it is like to have not only your career but someone else's resting on your decisions.  To walk away from both the wedding and the Navy, Kris would be damning his younger brother to mediocrity.  Every promotion would be weighed against Kris' actions and the fact that he walked away from responsibility.  Though they claim that promotions are based solely on your own efforts, they lie.  Your heritage, your family and other people's actions have a bearing on what the board will think of you.  Already, his younger brother has to be feeling the weight of his brother’s dismissed crimes and I imagine that his Captain is hesitant to allow him take even a single watch unaccompanied.  It'll take him months to settle back down into a routine and for people to forget, and even then, if something goes wrong, it will still be a shadow on people's minds."

"The Navy is not such a wicked place as all that.  Kris was found innocent of all charges," Archie protested, "That will stand him in good stead, and while you think the worst of the Navy, it's not such a dark place as you think."

Bell snorted, "I know the Navy better than you might believe, young Mister Archuleta, and better than you it would seem.  What can I expect though?  You're the product of an upstart Admiral who is playing his own brand of politics, and with a heavy hand from what I can see.  I have a history that goes back well over two hundred years and so many golden epaulettes in my family tree that the branches hang down to the ground.  I'd wager that I know more back hallways of the Admiralty than you and more loopholes than you'd find in mile of lace."

Archie spluttered, "I highly doubt that.  You're a pirate!"

Bell laughed, loud and long, and Kris could hear Adam's chuckles alongside.  Kris thought on what Bell had said.  Golden epaulettes were given to Captains and higher, so if Bell's family were so endowed they must be quite well known.  Kris' mind clicked and he mentally stumbled.  Alex, short for Alexander no doubt, and Charles...  A prominent history in the Admiralty...  Bell.  Bradley.  Good Lord.  It couldn’t be.  _Bell_ was Captain Alan Bell's second son, the one that was mentioned only in hushed conversations and used as a threat to underperforming Ensigns.  All this time...  All this time he had been right here, Adam's right hand.  From what Kris knew of Captain Alexander Bell and Lieutenant Charles Bell, Bell was by no means alone in his ability to wield an argument.  The Bell men had ruled the Admiralty in Whitehall for years.  It was rumoured that they were friends to the First Lord himself, and that having a Bell owe you a favour put you on par with the First Lord himself.  Kris didn't doubt it given that history was filled with the famed exploits of what was considered by many to be the very heart of the British Navy.  That Bell was of _that_ family line explained so much about his attitude and his arrogance and, loathe though Kris was to admit it, his undoubted talents to boot.

"Pirate, I may be, but I turned my back on my duties and Charles suffered for it.  I've suffered for it.  It takes a lot to turn your back on your family and it was an issue that I wrestled with for the longest time.  I can meet with my brothers only in forgotten ports and dark corners.  My father cannot even mention my name and my grandfather denounced my very existence claiming that I must be the seed of another man because no Bell man would ever do so crass a thing as to desert and join a pirate crew," Bell's voice rose sharply.  "My own brother floundered for years and still does, unable to rise to the rank that so many of his lesser peers now hold.  He must work harder and do more just to be considered the same.  That's the fairness of the Navy, Mister Archuleta, and while marriage isn't one of the main tenets of the naval code, it is still a factor and desertion from duty still carries the same stigma no matter what duty it may be."

Silence fell and Kris waited.  He didn't want to draw arms for this fight.  If Archie couldn't grasp the situation and simply accept it, then Kris would rather avoid the whole thing.

"So he does it for reasons other than a promise made before he met his true love?" Archie seemed to ponder that.

"Isn't a promise reason enough?" asked Adam.  "Kris would lay down his life on a promise.  That's the man that he is and I would not see him change.  To break a promise might well break _him_ and surely it would haunt him.  I would not have that act follow him for the rest of his days."

Kris smiled at Adam's words, feeling a warmth inside that Adam understood him so well.  Beyond duty and beyond every one of Archie's objections, there was a need to keep Katy safe, and Adam had listened and understood the reasoning.  Indeed, the man had given his blessing and pledged to help in any way that he could.

"Maybe, but..."  Archie trailed off, "... but I just wish..."

"As do we all, but the world is far from perfect and as such, we weather the storms that come our way," Bell sighed.

Kris looked behind him to where he had carefully placed Adam's white coat and with a hint of a smile, he shucked his own dark blue jacket and pulled on Adam's coat instead.  It was too big for him, much too big, but it felt good, warm and welcoming.  Taking comfort from the coat, Kris put his hand on the door handle and pulled open the door.  He was greeted by Adam's smile as he saw the coat draped across Kris' shoulders.  Kris blushed a little and his hands curled up into the sleeves.  Adam rose to his feet and crossed the room to run his hands over Kris' arms.  He leaned down and pressed his lips to Kris', his tongue flicking out over Kris' bottom lip, fleeting but tantalising none the less.  Kris felt his cheeks heat and Adam deepened the kiss, his arms finding their way to Kris' waist and holding him close.  Kris couldn't help himself, pressing close to Adam, his hands finding the crisp fabric of Adam's shirt and clutching at it as his knees struggled to give way.

"Good morning, Kristopher," Adam's words brushed over his lips and Kris ducked his head.

A crooked finger lifted his chin and Kris saw the smile on Adam's face and the predatory look as he leaned in for another kiss.  Kris ducked free and took Adam's hand in his.

"Good morning," Kris inclined his head to Archie and Bell, and to Tommy who entered the room a moment later, a fresh plate of warm bread in his hands.

Kris thanked him and made to sit at the table but Adam pulled him close again and Kris ended up toppling into his lap.  In truth, he treasured these moments, even if he wished that the room was less crowded.  Who knew how long it would be before Kris had such an opportunity as this again.  They would need to continue on to Boston later that day and after that who knew where they would be bound.   Treasure for Adam lay out in the deep blue seas, the shipping routes, the cross ocean trade routes where riches and spices were transported from monarchy to colony.  To hang around the coast and play escort to a tiny ship would do him no favours with a crew who lived for their share and the adventures that came with its capture. 

Kris reached for a piece of bread but his hand was slapped away by his possessive Captain, who tore a morsel free and dipped it in raspberry preserve before lifting it to Kris' lips.  Kris half turned in his unconventional seat and delighted in the breathy moan that found his ear.  He looked to Adam and saw the smirk even as he held the tasty bite to Kris' lips.  Kris was not a baby to be fed like this, but there was something intimate behind the sparkling blue eyes of the Captain and Kris acquiesced, making sure to close his lips around Adam's fingers and lick the very last traces from his skin.  Adam's lips parted, his breath coming in a soft pant, and Kris could barely contain his smile.  He blinked up at Adam as innocently as he could and feigned ignorance when Adam growled and nipped his jaw with a playful bite.

It was Bell who broke the moment with a rather harsh cough, "As delightful as this little scene is, gentlemen, if you don't cease your play, I think the young Lieutenant is likely to expire."

Kris spun to look at Archie, Adam's hand shooting out to hold his hips steady as he did, and sure enough, Archie's jaw was on the deck and his cheeks were redder even than Kris'.  Speech seemed to be completely beyond him and Kris blushed deeper still.

"Yes, well," Archie finally stuttered and rose from his seat.

The chair started to topple backwards and it was only luck that let Archie catch it before it fell completely.

"Things to do, you know, ready for...  sailing, yes, sailing, later, today," Archie backed away, his eyes looking everywhere but at Kris.

Kris smiled as Adam fed him another piece of bread.  It was strawberry flavoured this time and Kris delighted in the taste.  Bell sat back in his chair, and Kris could feel his eyes on them but whenever he looked over to Brad, the man had an inscrutable expression that Kris couldn't read.  Adam ignored him for the most part, content to tease Kris and whisper not-so-sweet nothings in his ear to make him blush and squirm.  Really, the Captain wasn't playing fair but Kris had more than enough tricks up his sleeve at this stage to even the score, making sure to move _just so_ and leave Adam sucking in a harsh breath as Kris squirmed just right.

The game had to end, Kris knew, but he hadn't banked on it being Tommy to draw it to a close.  Adam was needed on deck, or so the officer of the watch had reported, and reluctantly, Adam rose to see to whatever problem people were having.  He left with a kiss and Kris settled back into the Captain's chair.  Bell was still looking at him, his fingers tapping out an irregular rhythm on the arm of his chair.  Kris was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under the man’s gaze and busied himself with finishing off the bread and having some of Tommy's wonderful fresh-brewed coffee.

"Eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves," Bell finally broke the silence, leaning forward to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee.

"I don't know what you mean," Kris met Bell's eyes and schooled his features.

"I'm sure you don't," Bell smirked, a laugh playing across his eyes.

Kris said nothing, just sipped his coffee.

"Your young friend is experiencing a shift in paradigm," Brad said after a second.  "He cannot seem to understand that one can love and still not marry.  It does not seem to have pierced the tiny shell he calls a mind that men such as us have fewer options and must make do with what time we can snatch with the ones we love, all the while going through the motions of wedded bliss as society demands.  It's understandable really, given who his uncle is."

Kris frowned, "I'll not have you insulting Archie while he is not here to defend himself, Bell.  You may be from a long line of Admiralty paragons but that gives you no right to judge Archie.  He's been a friend through the last few months and my life was saved due to his timely intervention."

Bell considered Kris and his words for a moment, "I can read the lies on your face, you know.  The Captain fancies himself a reader of people but he has a blind spot where you are involved.  I, on the other hand, do not.  Archie, unless I miss my guess, has been a fair-weather friend of late, and all over your affair with the Captain and Miss O'Connell?"

Kris didn't dare address the question, not willing to test whether Bell was lying or not, so instead deflected, "He was there when it mattered and that is good enough for me."

"It was all I could do to keep the Captain in Eleuthera during the trials," Bell sat forward, cupping his coffee with both hands, "He fancied that he would just sail into Charles Towne and save you in a heroic swoop that would have resulted, not in your freedom, but in everyone's death.  You can thank me for that later," Bell waved a hand dismissively. 

Kris didn't know what to say to that.

"I've satisfied myself, you'll be pleased to know, that your affection for the Captain genuine and heartfelt," Bell delivered the news with great ceremony, "and I endorse your decision to continue your liaison with the Captain, but so help me if you hurt him, not even the Gods of the Seas will be able to block my path to you.  I'll see the flesh ripped from you so fast that you'll think that the devil himself has come to deliver you to Hell early.  I'll slowly peel back every nerve and strike you deep into your core with the bluntest and rustiest of blades and only then will I leave you to die, rotting slowly from your wounds.  Hell will be an ease when I'm done with you."

Kris gulped, "I don't intend to hurt him."

"We never intend to hurt the ones that we love," Bell sighed and drank down his coffee.  "To lighter subjects, though," Bell smiled, "and Archie."

Groaning, Kris closed his eyes, "Do we have to speak of Archie?"

"Yes," Bell answered, simply.  "He will not drop the matter, and sooner or later he will find someone who will side with him and the poison will spread.  Best to cut it out now while it's still no more than a pin prick."

Kris didn't really want to talk about this but Bell didn't seem intent on dropping it, "And what do you suggest that I do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Bell smiled, "Have a conversation with his boy and recruit him to your side.  Or you could simply explain the reasons behind why you feel so compelled to marry Miss O'Connell."

"Bell," Kris said warningly.

"You may as well call me Brad," Bell, Brad, Bell smiled, "you're part of the family now."

Kris shuddered at that.  Did he really want to be part of a family that had a viper like Bell at its core?

"Yes, well..." Kris started, "I don't know..."

"Think on it," Bell sat back.  "By the way, while you're heading towards Boston, we'll be sweeping out towards New Providence again.  There's another conference taking place, fallout from the last attack and some new rumours from the Admiralty."

Kris opened his mouth but Bell was already speaking again, "I'm not asking for your comment on anything.  You're still Navy and I won't ask you to betray any confidences.  Adam will not either.  We understand how it is to be divided between two Masters," Bell shrugged. "Besides, it's coming from Whitehall rather than Charles Towne.  North has more information.  You don't mind if I stand at Adam's back this time, do you?"

"No, of course not," Kris answered a little too quickly.

He did, but there was little he could do about it.  He could hardly take a jaunt to New Providence when Boston was expecting him, or more importantly, his cargo.  He trusted Bell to stand at Adam's back and watch out for him. 

"We should be there to meet you when you come back from Boston, say round about these co-ordinates again?" Bell asked and Kris nodded.  "Good, good.  Glad that's settled.  Let's go check and see what our various crews are doing then.  Getting themselves into trouble, no doubt."

Bell stood and brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve, pulling the sleeve down to sit perfectly.  Kris rolled his eyes as he watched.  He was almost to the door before Bell coughed to get his attention.

"Proclaiming yourself owned by the Captain may be well and good in the privacy of the Captain's rooms, but are you sure you're ready for so bold a step out on deck?" Bell asked. 

Kris looked down at himself, having forgotten that he still wore Adam's coat.  With a sigh, he stripped the coat and went to fetch his own navy coat.  It was cold and tight after Adam's but Kris made the best of it, straightening the sleeves so that he looked presentable.  Bell left the ward room first, Kris on his heels and stepped up onto the deck.  Men stood huddled in groups, small arguments breaking out as he watched.  Adam stepped to his side and Kris caught the momentary flash of disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at the blue coat.  Kris shrugged his shoulder and then turned his attention out to the men again.

"What are they doing?" he asked.

"Casting lots," Adam answered.  "They've been doing it for the best part of an hour, or so I've been told."

"For what?" Kris asked, frowning.

"To find out who is to go aboard _The Dainty_ and who is to stay here," Adam said.

Kris turned to look at him, eyes wide, "What?  They're...  Oh my word."

When they'd all signed on in port, it had been the happiest time; so many of his men willing to come back and sail with him.  If he'd known that it was all a ruse just to reunite with _The Madness_ , well, he wasn't sure what he would do, but he could have prepared himself.  Treasure called to pirates and every man Jack amongst them had signed on as pirates, himself included.  When stacked against a naval wage, the Navy obviously fell short.  Rules and regulations and so many things to remember, it was indeed a simpler life on _The Madness_.  Kris schooled his features and set his shoulders.

"Regardless of what they decide," Kris started, addressing Adam in a voice loud enough to be heard by those close by, “I'll need a full crew when I hit Boston.  I trust you'll see to it that they don't all desert my ship.  The waters around the coasts are treacherous, and I'll need every hand you can spare to ensure that we don't crash onto the rocks."

Adam looked at him for a moment and frowned. 

It was Bell who answered though, "Don't be so pompous, Kris.  They're drawing lots to see who gets to join _The Dainty_ and who has to stay on _The Madness_.  Hotly contested too, or so I've been told."

Kris blinked, "Pardon?"

"You can port your ship, your men can go home and see their wives and girlfriends.  They can see their children.  They can deliver their share to them.  Ours do not have that luxury.  _The Madness_ , glorious though she is, is not as free as your tiny vessel is.  Really, Kris, who comes up with these names anyway.  They may as well have called it _The Impotent_.  Honestly, hardly a name to drive fear into the hearts of the French now is it?  It sounds like it shouldn't even leave port.  _The Dainty_ , the first ship of the Women's Navy.  High Tea to be served at three o'clock precisely.  Your choice of cucumber sandwiches or tiny little cream cakes filled with jam.  Honestly, could they have come up with a more demeaning name?"  Bell's tongue seemed to have gotten away from him, but Kris was smiling.  "She's fine enough and you've done a wonderful job restoring her, but she lacks a little...  something."

Adam nodded, "Aye, that she does.  I hope you won't be offended but while we were...  engaged, I had some of the men carry over some of our smaller cannon.  We upgraded some of the cannon last time we beached her and well, we were just using them for ballast.  Better that you use them for their intended purpose really."

Kris looked over at his ship and saw that she now practically bristled with cannon.  The crew had done an excellent job fitting them, and securing them and Kris could do nothing but stare at his little ship.  She looked dangerous now, truly dangerous, even if it was significantly harder to find a section of railing should one wish to lean against one.

"There've been reports of French and even Spanish ships launching attacks on the coast lands, hitting out at some of the less established garrisons in the hopes of sundering them," Adam said the words low and Kris nodded.  "Keep an eye to the seas and try to run if you can.  I don't want you wandering straight into a confrontation, but those should help if you find yourself trapped by trouble."

Kris nodded, "Yes, I'm aware of the limitations of my ship.  But at least now, I can mount a proper defence.  Thank you, and thank your men for their troubles."

Smiling, Adam inclined his head.  Kris watched as the men drew straws and threw dice to see who was to end up with him.  A fight broke out on the foredeck but Cale was there to break it up before Kris could do much more than take a step in that direction.  However, it wasn't Cale that managed to silence the fighting men, but rather a cry from above.

"SHIP AHOY, CAPTAIN, SPANISH WE THINK!"

Kris squinted towards the horizon and indeed there were sails there.  He couldn't make out the details but he was prepared to take the spotter's word. 

"Men to their stations," Adam called.

Kris hesitated a moment and Adam reached out, a hand resting on his arm.  This was not the parting that Kris had pictured, but possibly after the fight they could...

"Run for the coast, we'll run them off in quick order and then deal with them."  It wasn't an order but it came too damned close for Kris' tastes.  "If you go now, you'll have time to shelter before they see you.  You're in our shadow right now, but with the wind, you should be able to turn.  We'll keep covering you until they're closer."

Kris' eyes narrowed, "There's no need to cover us.  I suggest a pincer movement.  We flank them and sink them.  Easy, straight forward, and if we say to your leeside, they shouldn't see us until it's too late."

"I thought that you were aware of the limitations of your ship," Adam threw his words back at him, "The cannon were so that you could defend yourself not so that you could tackle every stray ship that you happened to come across between here and England.  Damnit Kris!"  Adam ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm not some blushing maid that needs to be rescued from every situation, Adam, we can support you on this."

"And if they turn and successfully run for the horizon?  Who will stop them from telling whoever they come across that they have seen your ship cavorting with pirates?" Adam asked, exasperated.

"Who would they tell?" Kris asked, his hands finding his hips as he stood up to Adam, drawing himself up to his full height and ignoring that Adam still towered more than a half-foot over him. 

"The English!" Adam answered exasperated, "If they get captured, they'd make it the first piece of information to be dropped in conversation.  You've never been held in one of those places, Kris.  Trust me when I say that if you have any bargaining chips that you will use them to make the stay easier.  Your little ship is not without peers but none others are operating around this section of coastline.  It would be easy to work out who you are and then you would end up in the dock again and no fast talk would get you out of the noose a second time."

Kris didn't want to agree with Adam but it was getting harder.  He made valid points, damn him, and Kris hated him just a little for that, but once Kris was back on his own ship, he was the Master and he would do what he wanted.  Let Adam bawl him out later, but he intended to follow his own path in this.

"You're right, of course," Kris nodded his head, "I'll make for the coast, just as you ordered."

Adam seemed relieved at that and Kris headed quickly to his own ship, crossing over easily before looking back, "Everyone not aboard and at their stations in the next thirty seconds will be left behind."

Men ran to the railing and vaulted over, even as Kris unhooked the ropes keeping the two ships together.  _The_ _Dainty_ floated away a fraction and Kris smiled.  Bell looked over the railing and shook his head, a smile on his lips.  It seemed that Kris had not fooled Adam's first officer but he was saying nothing against Kris' actions and that, in itself, was a victory.

"Mister Archuleta," Kris called to Archie who stepped to his side instantly.  "Sails to full and get out and past _The Madness_ as soon as we're able.  Let's run her fast and hard, and fire a couple of shots in the direction of _The Madness_ , wide of course, but let's set the stage so that we're running from the fearsome pirates.  They're already changing their flag so a ruse like that would work well for us.  We'll be easy pickings for the Spanish and while we're giving them a target, _The Madness_ can come up on the other side.  She'll be caught between our cannons and helpless against the onslaught."

Archie looked dubious, "You've discussed this with Captain Lambert?"

Kris' eyes narrowed, "Does he run my ship?"

"No," Archie agreed, but he didn't seem happy with his answer, "...but if we..."

Kris didn't have time for this.  Adam had already ordered his men to unfurl the sails and cast off.  He didn't have time to explain his plan, and the voice in the back of his mind told him that he shouldn't, not if he wanted it to work. 

"Give the orders, Archie," Kris said, drawing himself up and tugging the bottom of his coat.  "Get us underway."

Archie snapped to and saluted, "Aye, sir."

Orders were shouted and relayed and his men rushed to their stations, clambering up the rigging to set the sails and fix them firm.  Kris stepped to the wheel and stood beside the helm, nodding to Smithy as Smithy assessed the wind and set a course.  Kris directed him to head towards the shore to free themselves and then to turn and catch the wind at its best angle.    The sails filled and they were off, pennants trailing and catching the light.  There was no mistaking who they were or where their allegiances lay.  Kris smiled and looked over his shoulder at _The Madness_ , at Adam who was standing at the bowsprit.  Even as the distance opened, Kris could see the scowl on Adam's face.  He waved and turned to face the enemy on the horizon.

"To your stations, men.  Gun crews, prepare to fire.  Warning shots only, but let's make it look real," Kris bellowed. 

The men turned to look at him, but Cook picked up the call, "To your stations.  All hands to your stations.  Gun crews divide, load and wait for your orders.  New cannon first, let's test them out.  You don't want to find out they're set to crack in the middle of a real battle, do you?  Set to it or you'll feel my boot dead centre of your arse."

The men rushed to comply, spurred on by Cook.  The powder monkeys ran to spread the powder amongst the crews and men hefted the cannon balls into the new cannon.  Primed and ready to go, Cook turned to Kris and nodded. 

"On your mark, Mister Cook," Kris ordered and Cook smiled.

"Ready and fire at will, men," he ordered. "A measure of rum to the crew who get it closest to _The Madness_ without hitting her, and if you hit her then, by God almighty, Lieutenant Allen will hand you over to Captain Lambert himself."

Kris watched as the men carefully took aim and fired.  Cale and he stood to watch the shots.  One went dangerously close to _The Madness_ , too close for comfort and Kris could see Adam still standing on the bow and shouting something, but whatever he said was lost to the wind.  He was less than happy though and Kris knew that he'd be hearing about this later. 

Damn the man, but they'd travelled this ground before when Adam had locked him in the wardroom and ordered him to sit still while the ship was attacked.  He didn't take the order then and he wasn't about to take it now.  His men were the best in the Navy, the best on the sea, and damned if he'd simply run for the coast just because Adam had told him to.  Adam may be the Master of _The Madness_ , but his authority ended at the railing of his ship.  Kris loved him, but this was a lesson that Adam needed to learn.

Kris turned back and smiled as the men cheered and tried for just one more shot.  It landed close enough to splash a good ten feet up the side of the hull. 

"That's enough for now.  Let's get some distance before _The Madness_ get's all her sails free," Kris called.

_The Dainty_ was fast, light and cut through the water like a knife.  _The Madness_ , though sleek, couldn't hope to catch her over a short distance, and Kris knew how best to work his ship to take advantage of _The Madness_ ' shortcomings.  They swung wide and cut a line that would bring them close to, but behind, the Spanish ship.  They'd catch her attention and hopefully, by cutting past them and distracting them, they'd hold their attention long enough for _The Madness_ to close the distance and deliver a decisive victory.

The distance closed all too soon and the men held their breaths.  Kris sent up a prayer that everything worked out the way that he hoped.  They swung wide, catching a breeze just when they needed it and spun wide, keeping their sails full.  The Spanish watched as they sailed past, and Kris saw the men on board looking to their Captain, ready with their tapers smoking and held just shy of the cannon.

"Steady, boys," Kris cautioned, "We have _The Madness_ on our stern and damned be any Spanish ship who thinks that they're enough to eclipse the danger in our wake."

The men nodded and stood ready, their own cannon primed and chain shot loaded.  Kris looked behind to see _The Madness_ closing fast, her sails full and gaining speed.  The Spanish were torn.  Kris watched the officers look from port to starboard and back again, and that hesitation was precisely what he needed.

"Fire!  All crews fire!"

Controlled chaos took over the deck as the men took up the order and the cannon boomed.  Smoke rose, clouding over the deck and Kris held his breath, trying to see through the thick black clouds to see where they had hit.  His men made each shot count, he had no doubt of that.  With a nod to Smithy, the man spun the wheel, setting the ship to spin and turn, making her as small a target as she could be.  They wouldn't have another chance to fire, not until Smithy had repositioned them.  He could hear the cries from the Spanish ship, harsh and close, crying out.  They'd hit men, Kris realised, and he crossed himself, praying for their souls.  The loud report of cannon echoed, and Kris braced himself but his ship didn't even rock.  The smoke was left behind now and Kris looked over to see _The Madness_ opening up with all the cannon she could bring to bear.  Timber exploded as he watched, and sails were ripped to shreds.  _The Madness_ closed and through the rigging, Kris could see the first men swarm the Spanish deck.  A figure in white joined them shortly afterwards and Kris found himself walking towards the railing, hoping for a better view, but the destruction blocked his view and Kris sighed. 

"Take us around, Smithy, and set course for Boston," Kris ordered.

"Aye, sir, Boston it is," Smithy confirmed and gently guided the ship back to a northerly course. 

The men stood ready until the fighting ships were left well behind.  Kris was the last to look away, and he only did that because Archie came to stand at his shoulder.  The younger man said nothing and neither did Kris.  He knew that there was a conversation waiting to be had but at that moment, he had no words, no idea where to even begin it, and with _The Dainty_ moving away from _The Madness_ , he had other things on his mind.  It would be months before he saw Adam again, and even then, it would probably only be a quick meeting, another shared night and then back to nothing, but Kris would take each snatched moment and treasure it.

He turned back to his ship and his men, "You did well, men, very well, and I'm proud of how you came together.  I know that I have some new faces on board and to you, I say welcome.  Mister Mills will pass through you shortly and ensure that we have the crew list correct for the Admiralty so that each man amongst you can draw pay once you reach Charles Towne.  We'll do a drill each morning for the next week.  _The Dainty_ is still finding her feet and us along with her.  Anything out of place that you notice, tell the officer of the watch as soon as you can, and we will put it to rights just as soon as possible."  He looked out over them, a smile on his face, "Welcome aboard, all of you, and glad to have you."

His words were punctuated by an almighty BOOM and Kris ducked and turned to see the Spanish ship engulfed in fire, and _The Madness_ pulling away fast.  They'd blown the powder store, that was the only possible explanation, but why?  Kris dismissed the men and watched for another few minutes.  Had Adam destroyed the ship to keep their liaison secret?  Kris shook his head and made to head below but the boy in the crow's nest called down, stopping him in his tracks.

" _The Madness_ on an intercept, sir."

Kris nodded and looked to Cale, "Tell me when they're pulling alongside."

Cale nodded and Kris made his way down to the Captain's cabin, which doubled as a ward room when needed.  Obviously, Adam was not going to let the situation stand without sharing his opinion on Kris' actions.  Kris had hoped that time and distance would spare him from the lecture, but Adam was looking to strike while the iron was still white-hot and Kris sighed.  He poured himself a measure of port and downed it quickly, contemplating another but he held back.  A moment longer in Adam's company was a welcome thing, but Kris did not wish their last moments together to be lost beneath angry words.  Kris paced the length of his cabin as he plotted.

Archie knocked on the door a while later and Kris bid him enter.

"Captain Lambert requests the pleasure of your company aboard his ship," Archie said and Kris could only hope that those were the words that Adam had spoken. 

Kris would have some words of his own if Adam had shared his displeasure with the crew of _The Dainty_.  Kris ducked his head and considered for a moment.  He took a step towards the door and stopped himself.

"Archie, be so kind as to tell the Captain that I'll meet him here.  Extend the invitation to him and to him alone."

Archie's eyebrows rose and he asked, "Are you sure?  Wouldn't you rather...?"

"No, Archie, it's time that the good Captain realised that he's not the only one with a ship and a crew.  If we shrink into their shadow whenever they are about, then we may as well strike the colours and simply raise theirs."

Archie didn't seem convinced but he nodded and left.  It was a nervous time for Kris and he took to pacing again.  He stripped his jacket and cravat and left them to one side as he pulled his shirt loose from his breeches. 

The click of heels storming down the corridor was unmistakable and Kris held his breath as they stopped outside the door.  He squared his shoulders and prepared for the fight, bound and determined to give as good as he got.  The door flung open and the words that Kris had been poised to say disappeared as he saw Adam standing there, dark and impressive, and furiously angry.  Desire rose fast in Kris and he was suddenly glad that his shirt covered him.

"You stupid, over-confident, stupid..." Adam started.

"You cocky, arrogant..." Kris cut in.

"I ordered you to..."

"You ungrateful..."

"How dare you!" Both men threw the words out, toe to toe and Kris had a sense of déjà-vu.

They were sharing the same air, only inches apart, and Kris looked up into eyes that were almost black.  Grabbing a handful of Adam's shirt, he dragged him down and devoured his mouth, kissing and biting even as Adam let his hands run through Kris' hair, grabbing and holding him firm as Adam tried to take control of the kiss.  Kris was having none of it.  This was his ship and he was the Master here.  Adam would do well to remember that.  Kris pulled back and pulled Adam's shirt from this breeches and let his hands slide under it to the warm chest beneath.  Adam looked down at him, lips swollen from Kris' kisses, and it seemed that the man could scarcely draw breath.  He panted and he tried for another kiss but Kris stepped back.

"Close the door," Kris ordered, "and we can ... talk."

Adam kicked the door closed with a kick of his boot and Kris backed away until his hips found the table.  He sat down on the tabletop, legs apart and beckoned Adam closer.  Adam came to stand between his legs and with a fierce touch, stripped Kris of his shirt.  His gaze flickered over the hardness still hidden by Kris' breeches and he ran a hand over it, to Kris' delight.  Kris' head lolled back as he gasped, and Adam's lips and teeth found the column of his neck, nuzzling in close, leaving playful nips in the wake of his kisses.  Kris' hand found Adam's hair and held him close, directing his ministrations with a subtle hand.

He whimpered as Adam withdrew, and eyes that he hadn't realised he'd closed opened to find Adam standing in just breeches, his clothes tossed over a chair.  Kris held out his arms, and Adam went to him.  Bare skin met bare skin and Adam's hips pushed against Kris' centre, and Kris moaned as Adam's hardness found his own.  They rutted like that for a moment longer and then Adam's hands were on him, stripping him of the last vestiges of dignity and freeing him to feel the air on that sensitive skin.  Adam freed himself and his hand wrapped around both throbbing pricks, sliding up and down with the pumping of his hips.  Kris' legs closed around Adam, drawing him near and Kris held on as Adam drew his climax from him, erupting himself only seconds later.

Kris held on tight as he tried to catch the breath that escaped him.  Adam clung to him too, resting his head in the nook between Kris' head and shoulder and panting fast breaths that tickled Kris' collarbone.  It was long minutes before Kris could speak or wanted to.

"I seem to remember an argument like this before," Kris smiled into Adam's skin, kissing it gently.

Adam huffed a laugh and Kris shivered, "Yes, I think you may be right, and for precisely the same reasons."

Kris arched an eyebrow, "Close enough, I'm sure, but not exactly the same."

"This is where you tell me that I have no authority to tell you want to do?" Adam pulled back a fraction and looked into Kris' eyes.

"It is," Kris nodded, "I'm not going to stand idly by when there's work to be done, and I'm not going to run simply because you tell me to.  I've been at sea all my life, Adam, and you have to trust in my abilities.  Whether it's that you want to shelter me, or whatever the reason that you find to justify it to yourself, I'm your lover, not your lesser.  My crew is mine once they step onto my ship and your authority ends at the railing of yours.  I am Master here."

Adam looked at him, eyebrow arched and a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, "Oh really?"

He licked a stripe along Kris' collarbone and Kris bit back a moan with herculean effort.  His hands found Adam's hair and tugged him back, extending Adam's neck so that he could bite at the corded muscles. 

"Really," Kris kissed at the bites and Adam groaned.

"I'll consider your position," Adam smiled, his voice laced with innuendo.

Kris rolled his eyes and pushed Adam back, sliding off the desk and tucking himself back inside his breeches, "You'd best do more than consider it, Adam."

Adam didn't miss the message that Kris was giving him, and sobered for a moment.  Thoughts flickered across his eyes and eventually, he nodded, "Your ship, your rules.  My ship, my rules."

Kris smiled and stepped into Adam's body, stepping up to kiss him. 

"Now," Kris said, breaking the kiss, "You're to New Providence and I'm to Boston."

Adam curled his arms around Kris, a predatory smile on his lips, "We have a little time before we need to set sail, don't we?"

Kris was lost in Adam's eyes and nodded, "A few minutes, maybe."

Adam kissed him long and deep, "Then let's make use of them, shall we?"

Kris nodded, "Let's."

 

 

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	6. The Direst of Circumstances

 

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_**20 th December 1710** _  
_**15 Leagues North of Charles Towne, Carolina** _

 

Kris didn't hate the cold that came with winter.  He didn't enjoy it, but for him it was simply part and parcel of sailing; a passage of time and season as sure and certain as the stars. 

No, what Kris truly hated were the storms, the raging winds that sent ice cold droplets through you at speeds that lightning one day aspired to achieve.  He hated the sting of cold rain and the icy splash of surf, and the fact that you couldn't get warm no matter how long you stood in front of the carefully tended brazier.  He hated that with only two officers on _The Dainty_ , he and Archie were obliged to weather twelve and fourteen hour watches to keep the ship between the whitetops.  The coast, when they were close enough to it, was nothing but jagged rock faces and shallow water, and offered little in the way of shelter.  Kris was making fast for Cape Fayre again, driven on by two factors.   The first was the solid fact that Cape Fayre harboured sheltered inlets where they could port the ship and find respite from the buffeting waves.  The second, and quite possibly the stronger driving force, was that Kris hoped to see _The Madness_ there and with it, her Master. 

Rounding the headland, Kris spotted a cove that looked safe and as calm as it could be given the tempestuous winds that raged around them.  With a shout, Kris directed the helmsman to make for the cove and drop the storm anchor.  Kris breathed a sigh of relief as the sails emptied and they came to a stop.  It was deceptively calm in the cove, the howling wind broken on both sides by the headland.  There was a small sandy beach and what looked like a treacherous path up the rock face that Kris wanted nothing to do with.  It rained still but, here in the inlet, it was no worse than an ordinary rainstorm.  Kris gave orders to take in the sails and set a minimal watch with Cale in charge.  Trouble wasn't likely given the weather, but he'd grown cautious on his trip.  _The Dainty_ was a good ship, fast and manoeuvrable, but in a straight fight she was outmatched by even the smallest frigate.  Surprise and speed were her principle weapons but Kris could only use them when the situation allowed. 

Traipsing down to his cabin, Kris was surprised to find Samuel laying out new clothes and towels for him.  The boy had grown over the last few months and had taken it upon himself to act as Kris' valet, making sure that he had coffee, freshly washed clothes and the best of food to eat.  The boy even gave a hand to preparing the meals, although he was far from a master chef, and Kris appreciated the effort.  In return, Kris made sure that he had time enough to spend with the other young lads aboard the ships, and spent a little time each day tutoring him in English and Mathematics, teaching him the basics that he would need to one day pass his Ensigncy examinations.  He also taught him the craft of wielding a sword and gentlemanly conduct.  He wanted the lad well cared for, and hoped that one day he would rise above the rank of seaman, although for now, Samuel seemed content to simply fulfil the role of Steward on the ship.

As Kris watched him now, he smiled to see that so many of his mannerisms were copies of Tommy's.  The lad had obviously watched the Steward of _The Madness_ closely and that was something that Kris was going to have to talk to Tommy about when next they met.  For now though, all Kris wanted was to change into warm, dry clothes, and grab a few hours of sleep before he was needed on the deck again.  The storm had lasted for three days already and there were no signs of her blowing herself out anytime soon.  Sleep had been a much treasured thing, but Kris hadn't been able to sleep much.  Unlike _The Hawk_ , or even _The Madness_ , _The Dainty_ 's size didn't lend itself well to weathering the roll of the waves and more often than not, Kris had fallen asleep only to find himself tossed from his bunk to crash onto the floor mere minutes later.  On the second night, Kris had gone below and taken an empty hammock but the sea had been too rough for even that to work and Kris found himself standing at Archie's side again long before his twelve hours were due to start.  Add to that the fact that it was cold food only during the storm and that salted coffee was the only luxury that they'd been allowed; it all added up to a miserable couple of days.  Archie and he had spoken of many things in those overlapping hours, trying to keep themselves awake, as they watched the men battle the elements; of life, of love and all the things in between. 

Kris changed his clothing as Samuel ran to the mess to get a plate of whatever the cook had on offer for him, delighting in brushing the warmed clothes over his cheeks.  Sitting back on the bed, Kris closed his eyes and drifted.  He woke seconds later - minutes later? hours later? - to find Samuel tugging him down on the bed and covering him with a blanket.  Kris smiled at the lad and fell back asleep before he could do more than that, and when he woke again, it was to a very different sight.  Kris started as he realised he wasn’t alone, hand going for his pistol and stopping only as he recognised his companion.  Sitting beside him, a book in his lap, was Adam, his usually twinkling blue eyes hidden behind closed lids and the sweetest half-snores escaping through slightly parted lips.  Kris smiled, tension easily as he pushed himself up.  Adam's white coat was laid atop Kris’ blanket and Kris ran a hand over the rich fabric, drawing it closer to him as he watched Adam sleep.  Rolling his shoulders, he stretched and felt wonderfully rested.  He looked out through the cabin's small window to see that dark clouds still covered the skies and that the rain still fell but here, in the cove, there was little more than the usual rocking to and fro.  Carefully, he took the book from Adam's lap and placed a kiss on his forehead before covering him with the blanket that was still warm. 

He closed the door to the wardroom gently, letting it click closed with nought but a whisper before turning to the room.  Archie sat at the table, and beside him Bell looked up from where they were having a light breakfast.  Both Tommy and Samuel were serving and Kris had to smile at the gentle instruction that Tommy was meting out. 

"Morning gentlemen," Kris took his seat.

"Morning," Archie replied, a little more subdued than his usual self.

"Afternoon," Bell smirked, "Rest well?"

Kris nodded, "Yes, very.  When did you join us?"

"Don't you know?" Bell asked, archly.

"No," Kris said, "I must confess that I slept right though.  The downside of storms."

Archie agreed and cradled his coffee close. 

"It was a little after four bells this morning.  Your watchman spotted us as we rounded the headland and recognised our colours even through the storm.  Good eyes, that man."

"No one woke me," Kris looked to Archie, who was hunching over, avoiding Kris' look.

"I thought, well, that is to say, that I didn't feel that you needed to be woken.  _The Madness_ is known to us and posed no danger.  You've not rested at all since the storm struck and what sleep you got was usually interrupted shortly after you put your head down," Archie didn't meet his eye.  "They woke me and I made the decision to let you sleep."

Kris sat back in his chair, "I see.  Thank you for your consideration, Archie."

Kris was not angry, per se, but he would have preferred to be woken and it was a matter that he would take up with Archie later, in private.  He wouldn't embarrass the man in front of Bell.  Things had been strained between them since their last meeting with _The Madness_ and the conversation that Kris had with Archie in the wake of that meeting.  He knew that Archie still did not approve of his intention to marry Katy but there was little that Kris could do about the other man's idealism.  Logic had not worked on him, nor had talks of duty and honour, and in the end Kris had dropped the subject in favour of preserving their working relationship.  He still considered Archie a friend, although their closeness had slipped and was drifting further apart with each day.  Kris would not be surprised if Archie put in for a transfer as soon as they made Charles Towne.  Now, though, was not the time to dwell on such things, not with Bell sitting at his table and watching him with his hawk-like eyes, cataloguing everything and missing nothing.

"Adam came aboard shortly after dawn, I joined your little group mid-morning," Bell cut through the rising silence.  "We would have waited for you before starting breakfast but, well, I'm sure you understand," Bell gestured at the closed door to Kris' chambers.

"Of course," Kris answered mildly, changing the subject before Bell could say much more.  "Bad run of weather we've had recently, don't you think?  Caught us a little flat-footed.  Had to keep fighting the winds to stop from being blown too far out to sea.  Shocking swells.  I'm not used to coastal waters at this time of year."

Bell's eyes narrowed a fraction, but then he replied, jovial almost, "They can get a bit rough.  There's been a storm brewing for the last month, moved in from the ocean.  We tried to keep ahead of it for a while but she caught us a few days ago, ripped up one of our sails pretty badly, but that was the height of it thankfully."

"If you don't mind, Kris, I'll just..." Archie stood and gestured at the door.

Kris nodded and Archie left without looking behind him.  Bell watched him go.

"You had that conversation with him then?" Bell asked.

Samuel came in to freshen the coffeepot and Kris waited until he had left before answering, "Aye.  I did but..."

"But he clings on to the same thoughts?"

Kris nodded, "He does.  Cook has tried talking to him but all that achieved was to make their relationship falter as Archie felt that Cook was siding against him.  I don't know, Bell, this may not be resolvable.  I fear that he's going to ask his uncle for a new berth when we land in Charles Towne."

"It's Brad," Bell corrected him, "and I don't know about that.  To my eye, it looks as if his heart is warring with his mind.  He may surprise you yet, but some things a man can only work out for himself.  He's known, possibly for years, where his desires lie, and is in a privileged enough position that he hasn't hesitated to act on them.  You, on the other hand, came late to our side of the deck and unfortunately find yourself bound by your word.  Not that _I_ hold it against you, but don't trouble yourself overly about it.  The boy will find his way or he won't.  Either way, there will be a resolution and soon."

Kris looked at Bell and tried to figure the man out.  He was being positively _nice_ and Kris didn't really understand why.  The man had called him family but Kris could still not fathom this sudden friendliness.  It was disconcerting to say the least.  When he had awoken on _The Madness_ that very first time, Bell had seemed the worst of officers, aloof and cocky, and filled with a need to prove himself better than anyone else.  They'd fought endlessly at every opportunity, and insults and barbs had flown through the air with abandon, but now, here he was trying to comfort - if that the right word? - Kris and explain some of Archie's indecisions. 

"Bell..." Kris started.

"Brad," Bell cut in.

"Yes," Kris nodded his head, "I find myself wondering one thing and I was wondering if you could possibly clarify it for me?"

Bell inclined his head, "I can try."

"Before, before the separation of our crews, before New Providence, I got the distinct impression that you disliked me intensely, but now, you offer me counsel and advice with no reservations," Kris leaned forward in his chair and looked at Brad, truly looked at him.  "I find myself wondering where and when this change came, and forgive me, but what is to prevent you from snapping back to your previous position of wanting my guts for sheets."

Bell smiled a slow smile and watched Kris for a moment, "I didn't dislike you.  Well, not entirely, anyway, but I didn't like you.  I'll admit that.  I have no deep and profound love for the Navy and you were the same as the rest of the bastard officers to my world-weary eyes.  On top of that, you captured the attentions of the Captain and put him in danger, put the entire ship in danger.  Falling for a naval officer is hardly the most prudent decision for a pirate captain, I think you'll agree, but as time went on, you turned out to be no ordinary naval officer.  I find that you are not made of the same boorish, arrogant, over-confident mould.  You do not seem to suffer from a God complex, well not overly anyway," Brad smiled, "and it's lucky for you that you do not.  You stood by the Captain's side at the Governors Conclave and watched his back.  You offered yourself up as a diversion even though it might have cost you the life you loved to do so, and indeed, it may have cost you your very life.  Even though I did not like you, I could hardly do less than respect you for your stand.  You gave us the time that we needed to escape and for that you have my thanks.  But more than that, you love Adam, not the Master of _The Madness_ , not the dread pirate that lives in fireside stories and legends, but rather the man himself, and he loves you."  Bell huffed disdainfully, "It's all rather sickening really, but there it is.  I count Adam as my both my closest friend and my brother, and as long as he is happy, I will continue to offer you my friendship.  When I said that you were part of the family, I meant it, although there are still times when I think you rather naive, rather like a cocker spaniel that my mother once had.  Chased parked carriages, you know.  Dumb thing.  Pretty but dumb."

Kris could not help but laugh at that, reassured that Bell's tongue had not lost its edge but rather was voluntarily blunted.

"I shall endeavour to do my utmost to keep Adam happy," Kris assured Bell.  "I have no wish to see him hurt."

"I know," Bell shrugged, "but remember that it's me that you shall face if you do hurt him."

"You've threatened me before."

"Aye, I have, but there's no harm repeating it," Bell winked at him.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to return to _The Madness_ and remind the lads that they have jobs to do."

Bell rose and walked to the door, pausing just as he reached it to look back, "Good day, Kris."

"Good day...  Brad," Kris returned the words, letting himself think of Bell as Brad for the first time. 

He sat back in his chair and thought on the whole situation.  The almost praise from Brad was rather scathing in places but left him with a warmth.  He wondered, and not for the first time, what had caused Brad's deep-set hatred for the Navy.  Being born to one of the preeminent families in British Naval society should mean that he was cosseted and courted by only the best Captains and got offered the choicest of commissions, but instead there burned an unquenchable fire in his heart that raged whenever the Ensign sailed close.  Perhaps Adam would be able to shed a little light on the situation, but Kris thought that the Captain would not share his confidences on this.  More than likely, it was something that Kris would need to broach with Mister Bell himself, and he was confident that he'd suffer for the question.  The friendship, if it could be called that, the lack of hostility was only burgeoning at this stage.  To press too heavily on it might cause it to falter, and Kris did not want to lose an ally over an idle curiosity.

Kris was still lost in his thoughts when the door to his cabin opened and Adam stepped out, stretching and rubbing at the back of his neck.  Kris' breath caught in his throat as he saw Adam's shirt pull up, revealing a tantalising sliver of skin.  His coat was still in the cabin, it seemed, and Adam was decidedly unkempt.  Kris found that this new rumpled Adam seemed to have a tow rope tied directly to his core and Kris forced himself to look away lest his cheeks ignite. 

"You're awake," Kris stated the obvious, hiding his desire by reaching out for the coffee pot.

"I am," Adam walked closer and a finger hooked Kris' chin and tilted it up so that Adam could kiss his lips.  Kris couldn't move as Adam placed the gentle kiss and it was only gravity that made him set the coffee pot down before he dropped it.  "Good morning, Kris.  You slept well."

Kris nodded, "Yes.  I thought to wake you but I didn't know how long you'd been sitting there.  It seemed cruel to wake you."

Adam laughed and took a seat beside Kris, his eyes dancing, "But yet, you wished me a good morning."

Kris frowned, not quite following Adam's words, "Of course."

"No, not in words just now," Adam's lips quirked up, "but with a kiss."

Kris' blushes deepened and he reached for the coffee urn again.

Adam brushed aside Kris' embarrassment with a hand and turned the talk to more serious things, "I had thought that we had missed you.  We must have sailed this coast four times before the storm caught us.  How did you know to put to shelter here, in the cove we use?"

"I didn't," Kris admitted with a shrug, "We needed to make for shelter and this was the first that we found.  With the shallows and the currents, it's been a plague.  Every time we spotted some safe port, the storm pushed us out and it was hell to keep her steady.  Finally, we spotted this inlet and the wind was with us.  So, it seems as if it is fate."

Adam prepared himself some food and bit into the thick bread, "Indeed.  I suppose you will go as soon as the storm lifts?  To return to your family for the festive season?"

Kris looked a little startled, but then remembered that it was, in point of fact, almost Christmas time.  Usually he found himself out to sea, a thousand miles from home with only the crew for company.  One day was the same as another on the sea, and only Sunday's stood out from the rest.  Christmas, generally, meant a slightly better flavour of slop and, if they were lucky, an extra measure of rum.  Sailors sang and the Captain celebrated a service for the men, but then it was back to the watch and the duties that could never be forgotten.  That he was so close to home for the season, it was unusual and he was torn between being home with his family and being here with Adam.  In the end, duty won the battle and the men were the deciding factor.  It wasn't fair to them to keep them here while he sated his urges and left them to just dream of their families.

"We'll return to Charles Towne, but from the looks of the skies, that won't be for another day at least," Kris reached out to take Adam's hand in his and hold it for a moment, letting his thumb stroke over the lightly scarred skin.

The door opened and Tommy appeared, carrying fresh coffee and warm preserves, and Kris pulled his hand away.  Adam drew back and thanked Tommy.  The man dismissed himself and closed the door firmly behind him. 

"I have you for a while yet then," Adam didn't look at him as he spoke, but it made no difference. 

Kris could already see the smirk on Adam's face and Kris bit his lip, "A while, yes."

"Good!"

Adam said nothing more over breakfast and neither did Kris, but between flicked looks back and forth and Kris' heart beating rapidly, Kris know how his afternoon was destined to go.  Archie could handle things for a few hours, and he'd have Cook by his side, Cale too if he had the need of him.  When breakfast was done, Kris pushed his chair back and stood.  Reaching out, he took Adam's hand and led him back into the cabin, kicking the door shut with a foot.

 

 



 

Goodbye, they said, was the hardest word and Kris felt that more keenly that day than ever before.  _The Madness_ was staying in the cove for another few hours until darkness gave them cover enough to set sail, but _The Dainty_ was being rowed out to catch the wind.  Kris stood on the deck, facing _The Madness_ and watching Adam as he stood at the bowsprit.  The first time Kris said goodbye was hard, but it was a necessity and that took the sting from it.  The second worse still but there was hope there and a time had been set for them to meet again.  Each day, each moment brought them closer and that was a balm that soothed Kris' heart.  This time, though, there could be no such plan and that made this parting the worst by far.  To meet again, it would take fate and planning in equal measure, and Kris would need to keep his ears open for hints and hopes of rumours.  _The Madness_ had more freedom to sail, but still Adam was bound by his own colours.  He needed to capture and to trade and that would take him into the deep ocean where Kris could not follow.  Kris would soon be on another mission and the good Lord alone knew where he'd be come January. 

For now though, he was bound for Charles Towne and home.  A day in port, maybe two was all that Kris was willing to commit to and he hoped that the Admiralty had another mission lined up for him, so that he could avoid the endless rounds of wedding planning that seemed to be the focus of his mother’s attention.  At least now, Katy knew the situation and no doubt, their conversations would be filled with stories and tales of Adam and, though not entirely proper, she'd want details of their romance.  He had stories to tell her this time.  He knew that she'd enjoy how he defied Adam and attacked the Spanish, and no doubt, she'd laugh when he told her of Adam's short chase afterwards and Kris' evening of the odds.  She'd enjoy another recitation all the more, or at least he hoped that she would. 

Archie still seemed to be torn between his feelings, and they discussed very little that did not have to do with the duties of the ship.  Kris had tried but each time, Archie remained stubbornly dumb, and Kris was now more convinced than ever that he was bound to lose Archie when they docked.  It would be a shame but Kris would not force the man to stay where he did not want to be and if the situation was causing him such distress, Kris would release him without question, although it felt like he would be saying goodbye to a once close friend.

Charles Towne appeared on the horizon as they rounded the last headland and Kris watched the garrison note their presence and saw a rider dispatched towards the city.  He expected no less and knew that his father would probably know of his arrival before he even turned towards the port.  There were no problems finding a berth and _The Dainty_ was secured as the watch called four bells.  Sunlight was fading now as evening closed in, but Kris could see the figure of his father standing on the dock.  He smiled and waved to him, but his father made no sign back, just stood, his hands resting on a cane.  Kris set a port watch and ran through the last of his orders almost distractedly.  His father never came to meet him when he docked, waiting instead until Kris arrived home and welcoming him there with a warm embrace and a glass of port or brandy.  He hurried through the last few things that needed to be done and then walked down the gangplank to where his father stood.

"Father, how wonderful to see you.  I didn't expect..."

His father interrupted him, his face dark, "Kristopher, you're needed at home."

There was a dire tone to his father’s words and Kris' smile died on his face.

"Is it mother?" Kris asked, his worry taking root and growing into a tangle that chilled him to his core.

His father shook his head, "No, Kristopher.  It's...  It's Katherine.  Do what you must here, my carriage is waiting at the end of the pier.  I'll wait for you there."

Kris wanted to ask for more details, but as he looked into his father's eyes, he knew that there would be none forthcoming until they were in a safer place with less ears around to overhear.  Kris nodded and his father turned to walk slowly back to the carriage. 

"Archie," Kris called out as he ran up the gangplank and Archie's head appeared at the railing, "I need you to oversee the ship and sort out whatever needs to be done.  I'll return as soon as I can, but I'm needed at home immediately."

Archie paled, "Of course, Kris, you don't have to even ask.  Is it...  Is your family...?"

Kris didn't know what to say.  He knew of Archie's feeling over the wedding and Katy, and as the commanding officer he didn't owe Archie any explanation but the concern in the man's eyes reminded Kris that they had a friendship, even if it had been faltering on the rocks recently. 

"It's Katy," Kris kept his voice low. "That's all my father would say on the dock.  I'll try to send word as soon as I have some, but..."

"Go, Kris," Archie reached out and grasped his arm.  "Don't worry over the ship.  I'll see to everything.  My word on that."

"Thank you," Kris rested his hand on top of Archie's briefly and nodded to him.

He was down the gangplank faster than was safe and he felt the planks bounce under his steps.  He ran to the end of the pier, to his father's carriage, not mindful of how it would look for an officer to be seen running.  His only concern was Katy at that moment, and whatever this situation was that was so dire that it had his father here waiting for him.

"I'm here, father," Kris swung himself into the carriage and their driver cracked the whip.

Kris half-fell into his seat and struggled to right himself as the carriage bounced over the streets.  Their driver was sparing no speed. 

"What happened to Katy?  What's wrong?" Kris asked.

Kris' father pulled off his hat and smoothed his hair.  Kris' heart sank.  He'd seen the gesture more times than he could count and it did nothing to calm Kris' tangled nerves.

"Three weeks ago," he began, "three weeks ago, she was out with her maidservant, returning from her father's house and, well, she was attacked.  Beaten.  Her maidservant tried to save her, but the man had a knife.  He stabbed her and left her for dead, turning his attention back to Katherine.  He turned his back on her maidservant and that was his downfall.  She pulled him away, but in doing so, Katherine hit her head off the wall of a building.  I'm sorry, Kristopher, but she hasn't woken since."

Kris' lips drew tight as he listened to his father, "And Ellie?  Her maidservant?"

"She was tended to by our physician, albeit under protest," his father did not look happy about that, "and she is recovering well.  Doctor Rogers says that it was a lucky stroke that the man did not kill her.  He came very close to her heart, but without her intervention, I shudder to think what would have befallen Katherine."

"Yes," Kris nodded.  "And the attacker?"

"He vanished into the night.  I had men scouring the streets but they turned up nothing.  I have alerts posted in every garrison and travellers inn in Carolina and I've posted a reward," Kris' father sighed, "but so far there have been no reports of him."

"It was her father," Kris spat out.  "He did this."

"I would say yes," his father nodded, "but we have no proof of that until we find the man who carried out the attack and as such, I cannot do more than question him.  He is, of course, denying everything, and publically blaming the fact that Katherine had left his protection."

"Bastard," Kris cursed. 

"Indeed," his father agreed.  "But until we have more than a suspicion, our hands are tied.  I'm sorry, Kris.  Truly, I am."

Kris brushed aside his father's apologies, "What has Doctor Rogers said about her condition?"

"I'm not a medical man," Kris' father sighed and patted down his hair again.  "He used a lot of words that I don't really understand to cover himself and claim his wage, but honestly, I don't know that he holds out much hope."

Kris nodded, his heart hurting.  Guilt gnawed at him, and he braced himself for the worst.  Hopes of introductions between Adam and Katy died in his breast.  He'd been excited to tell Katy more of Adam and have her laugh with him, and now it seemed as if that would never happen.  Katy was, by his father's account, an angel's breath from death and in the depths of his mind, Kris was blaming himself.  If he'd been here, if he'd done more, if, if, if...  He fell to silence, looking out the window as Charles Towne flew by.  He saw none of it though, concentrating instead on the prayers that sat on his lips.

The carriage skidded to a stop at the front door of the house.  Kris bounded from the carriage and up the steps, not waiting for his father.  Simon opened the door before he could even knock and Kris ran up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.  He skidded to a stop in front of Katy's door, the carpet runner sliding along the floor and carrying him three steps beyond the frame.  Kris stopped in the doorway and took in the scene.  His mother sat beside the bed, holding Katy's hand in hers and crying softly.  Katy lay perfectly still on the made up bed.  Her usually pink cheeks had lost their rosy glow and were now as pale as the lacework that appointed the sheets.  Her hair was brushed neatly and laid out in a golden halo on the pillow.  She looked to be at the tipping point between sleeping and dead, and Kris' stomach clenched.  He took a careful step into the room.

A creaking floorboard announced him, and his mother turned to look up at him, her eyes red and her handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand.  She rose and gathered him into a hug, offering him the seat closest to Katy, the one that she'd been in until moments ago.  Kris shook his head and moved closer to Katy.  Picking up her hand, he was surprised by how cold she was.  He brushed his hands over the chilled flesh and tried to force some warmth into it, but it failed.  He saw a bandage on her forearm, and the ghost of red against the white made him pause, frowning.

"Doctor Rogers is due any minute," his mother's voice was hoarse, cracking on each word and Kris nodded.  "He said that he will talk to you and explain the situation.  God knows, you might understand it better than I do.  He bleeds her regularly, but so far, it's had no effect.  He's given her some of the foulest concoctions, hoping to balance her humours but I don't know what benefit it's having.  I try to force a little water into her when I can, but it's hard.  Maybe now that you're here, she'll hear you and know that she's got something to live for."

Kris nodded, distractedly.  His mother excused herself and he heard her footsteps as she left the room.  He didn't know what to say to her, or where to begin, so he just held her hand and brushed his thumb across the pale skin.

"Sir, the doctor is in the foyer.  Missus Allen is showing him up," Ellie's voice came from behind and Kris looked over to her.

She was thinner, much thinner than she had been last time he'd seen her and she clutched an arm against her chest.  She looked pained, even now as she did nothing more than stand, and the effort to do even that seemed to be taking all her willpower.  Her eyes found Katy and Kris went to her, placing Katy's hand back on the bed gently.

"Ellie," Kris reached out to the woman who'd been Katy's shadow since she'd been old enough to walk, taking her free hand, "I heard what you did.  Thank you."

She shook her head, "Don't.  I...  I...  She..."

Kris led Ellie into the room and placed her in the chair.  She stumbled a little and Kris looked at her worriedly.

"Shush, Ellie," Kris said gently, "Your actions saved her.  If you'd not intervened, she would be dead for certain.  At least here, now, she has a chance."

Ellie shook her head.  Her hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly as she coughed.  It was a deep and wheezing cough and it rattled around her chest in a way that concerned Kris. 

"Ellie, are you...?"

"I'm fine, sir," Ellie tried to push herself to her feet, but her strength disappeared and she fell back down on the chair again.

Kris shook his head, "No, Ellie, I don't think so.  When the doctor arrives, I'll speak to him, have him examine you."

She started to protest, but Kris would hear none of it.  The doctor, Doctor Rogers, was a tall, thin man with a reaper-like visage that inspired no confidence in Kris.  He carried a heavy bag with him and wore small, wire-framed spectacles that were just far enough down his nose that he peered over them.

"Ah, you must be Master Allen," Rogers didn't extend his hand to shake.  "Your fiancée is suffering from an imbalance and I believe that is the cause of her current state.  I have been involved mostly with trying to balance the humours, to bring her back to herself.  I've bled her extensively, and applied warm cups to her back and stomach to draw out the bile, even fed her some natural tinctures that have proved to be effective with others.  It's her phlegmatic humour, you understand?  We've tried some barks designed to work on her _cholic cambium_ and her _sanguis_.  Unfortunately, she's not responded as I would have hoped, but today, I have a new tincture that I brewed myself that I believe will work.  It's made up of vervain, lavender, skullcap and squaw root.  I've had some imported from other doctors and I'm sure that this will work."

Kris was less sure.  All this talk of humours, of balancing things, Kris was less than convinced that this doctor knew anything about medicine.  He'd spent enough time with Maya and Manish to know that there were other ways to treat people, and honestly, Kris didn't believe that pouring potions down Katy's throat was going to help her much.

"I see," Kris said, keeping his voice neutral, "and Ellie?  She isn't feeling well."

The doctor looked at Ellie over his glasses and pushed them up with a knuckle, "Have you been applying the bark poultice that I prescribed?"

Ellie nodded. 

"And it's numbing the area?"

She nodded again. 

"Then, that's all that I can do at the moment."

Kris bit his tongue.  The most incompetent surgeon in the Navy had a better working knowledge than this man of wounds and how to treat them.  Maybe he was spoiled by the fact that in the past year, every injury he'd had was treated by Maya, a woman who, by every societal rule, was ill-equipped to practice medicine.  However, she was better by far than this excuse for a doctor.  Even Manish stood leagues ahead with his bag of carpenter's tools. 

"Now, I'll ask you both to step out while I examine Miss O'Connell and administer her treatment," Rogers turned, dismissing them from the room.

Kris helped Ellie to her feet and, with a hand on her arm, escorted her out.  His mother was waiting by the door.  She frowned as she saw Kris helping Ellie.

"Mother, Ellie is to be excused any work for the next while.  She has neither the strength nor the stamina to stand, let alone undertake her daily duties," Kris stood firm, talking over Ellie's protests.

"Did Doctor Rogers say that, Kristopher?"

"No, mother," Kris shook his head, "I did.  Anyone with eyes can see that she's in pain still and suffering.  We have servants enough to serve us without our endangering Ellie's health."  Kris turned to Ellie, "Rest, Ellie, and recover.  Sit with Katy when you wish and that shall be the extent of your duties until you feel stronger.  Send another servant for fresh water when you have need and keep speaking to her."

Ellie looked worried and Kris turned to face his mother, glaring at her until she relented.

"Of course, dear, you must take care of yourself.  Katy wouldn't want to see you like this," she tried to smile, but it was tight and forced.

Kris called for one of his mother's maidservants and instructed her to take Ellie up to her room and see her settled, and promised Ellie that he would send word as soon as the doctor finished his 'treatment'.  Kris excused himself after he saw Ellie off and made his way down to his father's study.  He searched out some paper and a quill and scratched out a note before calling one of the boys.  A young lad that Kris didn't know the name of appeared in the doorway, dressed in tasteful livery. 

"What's your name, lad?"

"Joshua, sir," the lad bobbed his head in a half-bow.

"Joshua, run to the docks with this letter.  Find a ship called _The Dainty_ and hand it to Lieutenant Archuleta," Kris instructed.  "It's to go into Lieutenant Archuleta's hands only."

"Yessir," the boy nodded eagerly.

"Good lad," Kris handed over the sealed note and scruffed the boy's hair affectionately.  "Go quickly and I'll see that the cook has an extra portion of pudding for you this evening."

The boy's eyes widened and so did his smile and he was off, running through the house and out the door before Kris could say another word.  Kris sat down heavily in his father's chair and tapped his chin with his finger.  He hoped that Archie would understand his instructions, and follow them, although he would understand if he chose not to.  Kris was walking a tightrope of legality in the orders that he gave.  It was true that they weren't engaged on an active mission and as such, he could order the ship to undertake a mission if he considered the reason deserving enough, but would the Admiralty really understand this order?  He doubted it, but he had little choice.

The quack upstairs was doing his best to drain Katy dry and still she came no closer to waking.  Kris could dismiss him easily enough, but Charles Towne wasn't filled to the brim with replacements.  Instead, Kris was sending for the one physician he trusted in the world.  He was sending for Maya.  If anyone could help Katy, it would be her.  He just hoped that Adam would release her for long enough to treat Katy, and Ellie of course.  To be honest, though his mother and her quack paid her no mind, he was worried at Ellie's condition.  She was a fraction of her former self and paler than a woman of her heritage should be.  He'd have someone check on her later and bring her some soothing teas.  He was a little disappointed at his mother for simply taking the doctor's words as Gospel truth, rather than looking at the woman for herself.

The study door opened and his father walked in, leaning heavily on his cane as he did.  Kris rose from his seat but his father waved him down and sat in one of the chairs opposite.  The winter was hitting him hard, Kris could see that, making his leg ache as it did every year, the cold stiffening the muscles and he rubbed at it through his breeches, driving the heel of his hand into the scarred flesh.   

"You've seen her?" his father asked.

Kris nodded, rising for a decanter of brandy from the sideboard and two glasses, "I did."

"And your thoughts?"

It was a diplomatic question, putting the onus on Kris to be honest and voice his thoughts with no guidance from his father.  Kris considered as he poured out two healthy measures and pushed one over to his father.

"I think that after three weeks, the doctor has done nothing but cause her further harm.  He's blatantly ignored the fact that his other patient is clearly in pain and in need of more than a poultice, while also telling Mother that she is fit to return to work.  I want him nowhere near Katy and when he leaves this house today, I shall be leaving instructions that he is not to be allowed back," Kris' voice rose.

"Kristopher..." his father started, but Kris held up a hand.

"It is your house, father, I am aware of that, but I will not have that man near Katy.  I'm surprised if he could find his arse with two hands and a map."  Kris snorted, "I've seen drunkards, men who have drunk distilleries dry, who have known more about the body.  Humours, father?  He spoke of humours!  I know more about the treatment of knife wounds than he does, and if he were my doctor and I were his patient, I would no doubt not live to see the morning.  No, I'll not have him here."

"It's not me that you will need to convince," his father swirled his brandy, not meeting Kris’ eye.  "The man has enchanted your mother and all the society ladies swear by his treatments."

"I'll speak to her later.  I have made arrangements for a physician to come, although I don't know when they will arrive.  I've sent Lieutenant Archuleta a note telling him what has happened and he'll hopefully sail on the next tide.  With a little luck, he should be back in a few days."

Kris' father nodded, "You trust this physician?"

"I've trusted the physician with my life several times, and I am all the better for it," Kris replied honestly.

Kris' father fell to silence, sipping at the brandy.  Kris sipped his own glass.  He closed his eyes and prayed for favourable winds.  Joshua skidded to a stop outside the door and knocked on the frame.  Kris beckoned him in.  The boy’s eyes went from Kris to his father and he bit his lip.

"You must have run all the way there," Kris smiled at the lad, "and all the way back."

Joshua nodded, flushing a little under Kris' gaze, "I did, Master Allen, sir.  Made sure that your letter got to the Lieutenant himself.  Other men said they'd deliver it but I didn't let them get it, sir, so I didn't."

"Good lad," Kris smiled.  "Was there any reply?"

Joshua reached inside his shirt and pulled out a scrap of paper, handing it over.  It was a little smudged thanks to the lad's sweat but it was still readable.  The reply was simple and pure Archie.

_Casting off as soon as.  Will retrieve package and return as soon as tide presumes._

_God speed and good luck.  My prayers will be with you and yours._

_A._

Kris sighed with relief and collapsed back in his seat, "Very good lad, tell the cook to give you whatever you want for pudding.  You've earned it today."

Joshua beamed, and disappeared out the door at speed.  Kris watched him go, shaking his head.

"You were the same way when you were that young, running here and there like it was the only way to get somewhere.  Boundless energy," Kris' father remembered.

"That was a while ago," Kris remarked.

"Not as long ago as you think," he said with a smile.  "Your brother's ship is due back in a few days.  He'll be stopping over for a few days hopefully.  It'll be nice to have my boys back under the same roof.  He's under Captain Selkirk now, you know, on the _Dover_..."

 

 



 

The days passed slowly and the corridors of the house seemed to turn into a warzone between Kris and his mother.  She didn't agree with his decision to bar Doctor Rogers from the house, and she was extremely vocal in her disagreement.  His father tried to soothe her temper but it was a downhill battle.  Her friends, the women of society, came over regularly to check with her on how Katy's condition was progressing and she wasted no time in telling them Kris' decision, and they in turn didn't spare Kris their opinions on the matter. 

The situation with Daniel with less clear though.  He ate with the family in the evening, slept under the same roof, but that was the height of their interactions.  He wouldn't even look Kris in the eyes, nor engage in conversations with him.  Kris knew that Daniel had suffered due to the court-martial, but his brother was doing everything in his power to write Kris out of his existence.  He left rooms that Kris entered, he answered direct questions only and ignored everything else that Kris said.  It hurt Kris that their relationship had become so strained.  He and his brother had been close, but now it seemed that there was distance between Kris and everything he loved in his life. 

Kris had taken to sitting with Katy for hours at a time, holding her hand and talking to her about everything that crossed his mind.  The silence was deafening when he stopped and with the exception of his father, he was a pariah in his own home.  He watched the horizon when he could, watching for _The Dainty_ to appear and his conviction on Doctor Rogers was fading with each passing moment, steeled again only when he saw the vivid red marks up and down the porcelain skin on Katy's arms. 

It was almost the New Year when _The Dainty_ made port and the doorbell rang.  A servant came to fetch him from Katy's side and he hurried down the stairs to greet his guests.  He skidded to a stop when he saw them, words lost as they stood before him.  In the middle of the foyer, and dressed in finery that had to be borrowed from Brad, stood Tommy and flanking him were Maya and Manish, both carrying bags filled to bursting with the Good Lord alone knew what, and dressed in formal robes with their heads covered.  Kris didn't know what to say but Tommy stepped forward and offered his hand.

"Doctor Ratliff, at your service, Lieutenant.  I must admit that I was most surprised to read your letter but, of course, I came at once."

Kris frowned, not knowing why Tommy was pretending to be the doctor until Tommy's glance flicked to the side, and when Kris turned, he saw Daniel standing there, a suspicious look on his face.

"Doctor Ratliff, thank you so much for coming.  I wasn't sure if you would be able to free yourself," Kris shook Tommy's hand, feeling it squeeze tight in what had to be a mix of sympathy and support.

"This time of year is always quite quiet, I find, so it was no trouble," Tommy released his hand and gestured to Maya and Manish.  "I don't know if you met my companions previously.  Miss Maya here is a herbalist who I have engaged as my apprentice, well-versed in the herbs and unguents known hereabouts and throughout the Caribbean.  Beside her is Manish Amroliwallah, an expert in the arts of India and an expert in balancing the humours."

Kris saw Manish wince slightly as Tommy pronounced his surname, butchering the consonants as he said it.  Kris nodded to both in turn and stepped back.

"If you'll follow me, doctor, I'll show you to where Miss O'Connell rests," Kris started up the stairs and Tommy quickly followed, Manish and Maya on his heels.  "I've dismissed her previous doctor as it was obvious that the man knew nothing about medicine beyond bleeding and purging, but she's shown no improvement for the four weeks since her attack.  There's another woman here also, who would benefit from your mercies, a maidservant of Miss O'Connell who was accompanying her at the time.  She was stabbed in the chest as she tried to defend Katy."

Maya's footing faltered on the stairs and Kris paused, turning to look into her darkened expression.

"I'll send for her so that you can examine her at the same time, shall I?" Kris reached out and took Maya's arm.

"Yes, Lieutenant Allen," Tommy nodded his head, "That would be best."

Kris beckoned a servant closer and sent her to fetch Ellie before continuing down the corridor to the room where Katy rested.  The façades fell only once they were in Katy's room with the door closed.  Tommy stood guard at the door, listening for footsteps outside as Maya perched herself on the edge of Katy's bed and started examining her.  Kris paced nervously as he watched and turned when Maya gestured.  The only one exempt from Maya's directions was Manish who was as involved as Maya in her examinations. 

"I didn't know if Adam would release you," Kris spoke quietly, "either of you, and I prayed that Archie would find you."

"There was no question, Kris.  We hadn't left the cove," Tommy answered.  "Pickings are few this time of year and the men wanted some time to relax and celebrate.  When Archie arrived, it was all we could do to persuade Adam not to come.  Brad locked him in his cabin and sent me instead."

"Yes," Kris answered distractedly.  "What?"

"Don't worry, Kris," Tommy reached out and patted his arm.  "With Maya and Manish here, we'll have her fixed up in no time."

Kris bit his lip, and looked over his shoulder.  Maya and Manish were conferring quietly, both faces grim.  Footsteps in the corridor outside sent Tommy hurrying to the bedside, shifting Maya and Manish to the end of the bed.  He nodded to Kris and Kris opened the door.  Ellie stood outside, looking worse if anything than when Kris had last seen her.  He helped her in and put her in the chair, and not a moment too soon.  She stumbled, her strength leaving her at the last minute.  Maya was by her side in an instant, murmuring to her in a low voice. 

"Perhaps," Manish said hesitantly, "perhaps you'd best step out Mister Allen.  We need to examine the woman and there are a few more tests that we would like to perform on your Miss O'Connell.  We have a... a preliminary diagnosis but we want to be sure before we proceed."

Kris let out a shaky breath, but he nodded. 

He put a hand on Ellie's shoulder and squeezed lightly, "These people will help, Ellie.  I trust them with my life."

Ellie patted his hand and smiled at him, "Then I'll trust them with mine.  Don't you fret none, Mister Kristopher, I'm not feeling too bad today, truly.  I don't want to be a bother.  Let them look at Miss Katy and see if there's anything they can do to wake her."

"I worry about all the women in my life," Kris smiled, "and I asked them to look at you too.  Can you imagine how disappointed Katy would be in me if she woke to find that I'd neglected you?  Really, Ellie, would you wish such a fate on me?"

"Well, I suppose then I best let them look, although I really am feeling just a mite tired.  That's all that's my trouble, sir."

"I'm sure it is, Ellie, but Maya and Manish here are going to look after both you and Katy," he smiled and squeezed her shoulder again, "so, I don't want to hear that you gave them any trouble."

Ellie looked at him as if he were an insolent child and Kris fought his reflex to step back, "Fine, fine.  I'll step out and leave you to their capable hands."  He looked to Maya and smiled, "I'll be right outside the door when you're through."

"I'll come fetch you when we're through, Kris," Maya promised.

Waiting outside was like purgatory.  He'd started out leaning back against the wall, bouncing on the balls of his feet and starting at every sound that came from Katy's room.  Daniel passed him in the hallway as he walked to his room but Kris didn't look up, but instead slid to the floor to wait.  He tapped his fingers against the parquet floor and his heels kicked at the carpet runner, mussing up the edging.  Daniel passed again about a half an hour later.  Kris looked up as he passed, but Daniel didn't spare him a look.  He was wearing his uniform though, and Kris' hands tightened into fists, instantly worried.  He hadn't known that Daniel was going to the Admiralty today, but then he'd not had a full conversation with his brother since he'd arrived home. 

It seemed an age before Tommy opened the door and beckoned him in.  Kris pushed himself up, his backside numb and cold from the floor, and stepped in, closing the door behind him.  Maya was hunkered down beside Ellie and holding out several vials of dark liquid, speaking softly to her.  Kris frowned and Maya looked up.

"Ah good, you're here," Maya stood and patted Ellie on her arm.  "It seems we got here with not a moment to spare, child.  Ellie, here, was bordering on blood poisoning.  Whatever man you had treating her wouldn't know tree bark from horse droppings, in my opinion.  It was dirtied with moss and an infection set in.  It's not hard to fix, but if he'd spoken to her and re-examined her even once, he'd have seen it."  Maya's voice had been rising as her anger shone through, bright and fierce.  She took a breath and tried to calm herself, "I've given her a few tinctures to drink nightly and an unguent to rub into her wound several times a day along with some suggestions for natural teas that will help her regain her strength, but she'll need to be excused her duties until she starts to feel better."

"Of course," Kris nodded.  "My word on it, Maya.  I've already spoken to my mother on it and the extent of her duties are sitting here with Katy and watching over her."

Maya hummed and nodded, "Aye, child, that's what she's said, but I'd prefer her to sleep a little more over the next few days.  Some of the teas I've told her about will make her sleepy and that's what her body needs right now."

"Then rest she shall have," Kris promised, smiling at Ellie.

"Good," Maya folded her arms under her bosom and glared at both of them.  "See that she does."

Kris took Ellie's hand and patted it, reassuring her that she'd have the time that she needed. 

"What about Miss Katherine?" Ellie asked.

Kris had been putting off the question, terrified that Maya would say that there was no hope, that she was already gone and that nothing could be done.  Ellie squeezed his hand and pulled him down closer until she could take his other hand in hers.  He steeled himself for Maya's verdict but it never came.  Instead, it was Manish who spoke.

"Miss O'Connell's condition is more serious by far.  Unfortunately, it is not a matter of administering a few natural remedies and hoping for the best, as it seems that your previous doctor did.  He did everything from burn her skin raw in some places to almost drain her dry and it's a testament to her strength that she lives still," he smiled, although it was a hollow smile, forced and without even a hint of joy.  "There is a treatment that we can try, but it is not without risks and you must understand that.  The procedure will be quite hard on her and after waiting so long, there is no guarantee that it will work, do you understand?"

"Yes," Kris answered, his breath shuddering over the word and he was forced to repeat it, "Yes.  Please, Manish, Maya, whatever you can do, please do it."

"Very well then," Manish sighed.  "We'll need some towels, some sheets that you won't miss, and a room with a table.  We cannot do this here in her bedroom.  Somewhere with good lighting and a wooden floor, if you will."

It took a moment for Kris to slot the pieces together but he realised that whatever Manish planned would most likely cause Katy's blood to be spilled.  He bit his lip as he considered his options, not daring to look at the woman on the bed.  He was an officer, damn it, and he dealt with situations like this every day.  Life and death, blood and injury.  But Katy was a civilian and more than that she was a lady, destined to be distant from this mess, but instead she lay lost on perfect white sheets.

"The parlour," Kris said finally, "There is a large table in there, sturdy and high enough for the purpose, and the light should be flooding in the windows there but we can get oil lamps if you need more light."

"Good," Manish nodded.  "By the sounds of it, the room meets our needs.  I'll need you to carry her down there."

Kris nodded and went to Katy's side.  He stroked her hand gently before pulling back the covers and scooping her up.  He led them down to the parlour and pointed out the table.  It was a fine mahogany table, polished and pretty and Maya wasted no time in stripping it of its finely crocheted tablecloth and delicate china.  She threw a blanket over the table, one that had covered Katy and finally let Kris lay Katy down, spreading her out and covering her from the waist down with another blanket.  Ellie followed moments later, a bundle of white towels clutched in her hands.  Maya nodded and then sent both Ellie and Kris out to wait in the hallway.

Kris watched as Ellie crossed herself and started mumbling prayers.  Kris followed her example a moment later.  His mother joined them not too long after that and soon enough, the entire house staff were gathered in that hallway and waiting on news.  Kris paced as best he could in the crowded hallway, looking to the door at every noise.  The light had started to fade when the doors finally opened and Tommy beckoned Kris in.

"She can be removed to her room again, and it is vital that she be allowed to sleep."  Tommy was wiping his hands and Kris couldn't help but stare at the red stains that gathered under his fingernails.  "We have done all we can for her.  Now it's a matter of time."

Kris looked to Maya and Manish.  Both looked tired, worn down and each was splashed with blood.  Kris stepped closer to Katy and was surprised to find a thick bandage covering her head, tying down her long blonde hair.  He was careful as he lifted her and carried her back up the stairs.  Maya followed him, and took the seat beside the bed. 

"I'll sit with her tonight and keep watch over her, child.  Don't you worry none.  Tommy and Manish are staying in an inn tonight.  I think that you should see them to it and have a strong shot of rum while you're there.  You've not seen much sunlight over the past few days, I'd wager and it would do you good to get out of the house," she said gently.  "Nothing will happen her while I watch her, child, that I promise."

Kris nodded and thanked her.  He didn't want to leave, but he knew that she was right.  The atmosphere in the house was tense and there was nothing he could do to ease it.  A walk in the night air might just free his senses and calm him enough to sit with his mother that evening.  He kissed Katy's cheek before he left and guided the men to their lodgings.  It was a quiet walk.  None of them were in much humour to talk, it seemed.  Tommy kept one hand tucked inside his coat, resting on a knife no doubt.  He entered the tavern first, and spoke to the landlord.  They were directed up the stairs and given their room numbers.

"I'll wait down here," Kris said as he looked around.

The tavern was busy, filled with sailors trying to find the bottoms of their bottles, but there were a few tables.  Tommy shook his head and grasped Kris' arm, practically dragging him up the stairs.

"Tommy, what has gotten into you?" Kris asked, trying desperately to free himself from Tommy's iron grip.

"If I leave you down there, you'll simply sit with a bottle and lose yourself to the haze of watered down rum and bad ale.  We have a much better plan for you this evening," Tommy chuckled.

"You brought some good rum with you?" Kris asked. 

"Better than that," Tommy crowed.

Kris looked at him blankly and Tommy started dragging him along the corridor, "Number six, there it is."

He opened the door and tossed Kris inside.  Kris barely kept his footing and he spun just in time to see the door behind close.  He could hear Tommy's laughter in the corridor and Manish's worried voice, both fading away.  Kris's hand reached for his sword, but he hadn't thought to bring it when he'd left the house.  He turned slowly, assessing the situation.  At the other side of the room stood a man, dressed in rather rustic clothing that had seen much better days. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, my friends have played a cruel j..."

The man turned and Kris found himself looking into deep blue eyes.  The words died in his throat as he stepped forward.  Adam's arms came to embrace him, holding him close as he whispered nonsense into Kris' ear.  Kris clung on, his fingers grasping tight to Adam's brown - truly brown, not white or cream or beige, but _brown_ \- shirt, and there, held by his lover, his heart, Kris finally loosed his tight controls and did what he could never do while any other than Adam watched.  He broke.

 


	7. A Viper at his Bosom

 

 [](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

 

  
**_4 th January 1711_ **   
**_The Black Bull, Charles Towne, Carolina_ **

 

“You can’t be here,” Kris’ words were little more than a breath, even as he clung to Adam’s jacket.

“And yet I am,” Adam answered, brushing a kiss against Kris’ hair.

“But the Admiralty...  Are you mad?”

“If I am,” another kiss, gentle and soft, “then truly you are the cause.”

“If they find you, if any man here speaks...”

“They will not.  They will not think to search here, for no man would be so brazen as to hide beneath the very noses of those who look for him,” Adam hushed his thoughts with a whisper, or tried to, but Kris’ fears were sitting raw and exposed.

“Adam, be serious for a moment,” Kris pushed at his chest and Adam stepped back a pace.  Kris’ hands still clutched the homespun fabric, unwilling to release his lover.  “It pains my heart to say this, truly it does, but we must get you back to sea immediately, back amongst the waves before anyone sees you.  Damn it to the depths, I wish it weren’t the case.”  Kris’ eyes fluttered closed as the words turned salt dry in his throat.  He swallowed, his breath stuttering as he forced the words out.  “You cannot know how much I wished to see you these last few days, wished that your hand were resting on my shoulder, that you were by my side through this nightmare of a time.  I cannot even bring myself to believe that this is not some mere dream, some figment of my mind conjured up as the last of my wits desert me.”

“I’m here, Kris, and I’m real.  Not even Brad’s sharp tongue could keep me away.  I know what Katy means to you and to find her injured like this, your heart must be breaking,” Adam’s finger brushed his cheek, stroking along the stubbled skin.  “I could not see you hurting this way and not come to be at your side.  I know that it must be a fleeting visit, but we have until the morning tides turn.”

“But...”

“If I left now, Kris, then I would be on the waves, a sitting target beached by the waves for all to see,” Adam raised Kris’ chin and pressed a chaste kiss against Kris’ lips.  “Our men watch the tavern and the landlord is, shall we say, sympathetic to our cause.  I’m truly safer here than I would be sheltered in the bay off Cape Fayre, buffeted by winds and rains and a prone target for any smuggler or naval officer wanting to fatten his warchest.”

Kris doubted that, but before he could say anything, Adam kissed him again.  A flick of tongue teased at his lips and Kris moaned, breathy and with the faintest edge of a whimper to the sound.  Adam stepped in to close the distance between them, arms wrapping around Kris and holding him safe.

“I...”

Any protest that Kris was going to make died in his throat under Adam’s caressing touch.  Logic and reason and, God help him, duty died in that instant, leaving only Adam’s warmth and heat and the bluest of blue eyes in their wake. 

“I... I missed you.  I needed you.  I...”

Kris let himself melt into Adam’s arms, the starch washing away and leaving just Kris behind.  His eyes were closed tight as the pricks of tears stung.  The false strength that he’d pretended over these past few days, weeks, the never ending worry; none of it could stand under Adam’s knowing gaze.

“Talk to me, Adam.  Talk to me of the sea and of battles and things that you have seen.  Take me away from here with your words.  Lock the door and take me away from here, even if it only for a few brief hours.”

“I’ll talk to you, aye, but let me love you first?”

There was a hesitancy to Adam’s half-question and Kris opened his eyes to look up.  For the first time in Kris’ recollection, Adam looked less sure than sure of himself.  The look in his eyes, the questioning, the doubt, looked wrong and Kris leaned up, capturing Adam’s face between his hands and pulling him down into a kiss.  Kris held it for a moment longer.  Adam trembled under his hands, not moving and Kris kissed him again, harder this time, and with a want and longing that surprised Kris.  Desperation hung heavy in the air, desperation and relief and longing and so many other emotions that Kris could not spare thought to give name to, but there, almost hidden under everything else was a love so pure and strong that it almost took Kris’ breath away.  The world faded out, as did Kris’ breath, and Kris pulled himself away, panting.  Adam breathed heavy too, his eyes dark black with lust and affection and primal want. 

Kris pushed the jacket from Adam’s shoulders, biting his lip as his hands played over Adam’s muscles, hard and tensing, fluttering under his unsteady hands.  Adam’s shirt went next, baring him to Kris’ eyes.  Golden chains hung around his neck, glinting and catching the candlelight as they moved with each breath that Adam took.  Stripped to the waist, Adam was glorious.  Strong and taut from the years of hard work aboard _The Madness,_ and a wonder to be admired.  Adam let him look his fill before he stepped forward to bare Kris in turn.  Kris helped him, foregoing any attempt to tease Adam, to tantalise him each inch of skin uncovered.  Adam’s fingers found his nipples, plucking the rosy nubs into hard points and then brushing each with his thumb until Kris shivered, groaning as he hardened.

A movement and Adam was naked, standing unabashed before Kris and the sight took Kris’ breath away.  Adam was straining, dark and heavy, as Kris watched.  The light played over the dressing ring making it glow as Kris’ fingers brushed over Adam’s length, savouring the soft, soft skin, velvet over iron, and Adam’s prick wept a pearl of clear liquid.  Kris was quick to gather it on the edge of his finger and looked up at Adam.  Adam was barely breathing, his lips parting just the tiniest fraction as his eyes flicked from the finger to Kris’ eyes, breath baited to see what Kris would do next.

Kris felt positively wanton as he brushed the finger over his lower lip, letting it bounce back as Adam watched and with a hint of a smirk, he flicked his tongue out.  His mouth flashed sweet-sour and Kris licked the remnants from his lip, sucking then on his finger to capture the last of the liquid.  The dark of Adam’s eyes snapped wide and Adam moaned, breathy soft.  He dropped to his knees and dove for the fastenings of Kris’ breeches.

The buttons popped loudly and Kris’ breath caught in his throat.  The mouth that swallowed him down was warm and wet and wonderful.  So amazing that Kris felt sure that he would die here in this place, expire from the pleasure coursing through him.  His fingers found Adam’s hair almost without thought and curled there, savouring the feel of the soft strands as they tickled his skin.  Lord God, if this was torture then Adam was truly the master.  If this was pleasure then Adam was blessed amongst men.  If this was salvation, then surely the angels sang out Adam’s name in the highest of heavens.  A swipe of tongue, a flick of finger, a flex and Kris could barely stand, his knees buckling under the swell of his climax.  He had no breath to speak even a word of warning.  The tightening of his hands was the only sign that he could give, and he spent.

Adam caught him as he stumbled, laying him on the bed to catch his breath.  He scooped up a stray creamy drop with his thumb as Kris watched.  Before he could repeat Kris’ tease, Kris caught his hand and, looking into Adam’s eyes, licked his thumb clean.  It was bitter, much more so than the previous morsel, but that taste was eclipsed by the salt on Adam’s skin and as Kris danced his tongue over it, he relished the groan that came as he traced the edges of a callous.  Adam’s ardour was up, Kris could see that, and he had plans a plenty for their remaining time.

 

 

 



 

Dawn rose and so did they, Kris cosseted in the security of Adam’s arms as he curled into his side.  Kris’ eyes watched the interplay of their hands where Adam’s fingers interlaced with Kris’ own.  The rings that Adam wore were heavy and weathered, but they were part of him.  Cold by design, but warming with a touch, the perfect description for those who knew _Adam_ and not simply the Master of the Madness, the dread pirate with a fearsome reputation.

Kris huffed a half-laugh at the thought, making Adam shift to look at him.

“It’s nothing,” Kris shook his head, “Just an idle thought.”

Adam nodded.  Kris could feel a flash of tension through the other man’s muscles and looked up.  He sighed as he read the unspoken words on Adam’s face.

“How much longer do we have?” Kris asked.

“A few minutes.  I dare not wait until full light,” Adam closed his eyes.  “I wish I could take you with me, just steal you away from here and install you in my cabin.”

Kris’ eyebrows arched, “You should know from experience that I am not one to be left to idle away in the bowels of your ship.  Why, to do that might mean that you would have no ship left.”

Adam lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Kris’, “Indeed, I do know that.  I doubt that Brad or Tommy would let me even contemplate such a thing, and another confrontation with Cale might just end me.”

Kris pushed up, turning to look at Adam fully, “Another? There sounds like a story there, and an interesting one.”

“But for another time,” Adam shook his head.

Kris did not push.  How could he when the sun was climbing the sky?

“Where do you go from here?”

“New Providence most likely,” Adam slid from the bed, pausing only to kiss Kris.  “There’s a meeting there soon.  North is calling in a favour and demanding that I attend.  No details but he’s never trusted messages and notes.  Too easily intercepted.

Adam pulled on his breeches and moved over to the window, to the basin and jug.  He washed his hands and face, looking out the window to the sea.  Kris came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist.  Adam leaned back into him, turning his head so that he could kiss Kris’ hair.

“I don’t know when we’ll next have a chance to meet,” Adam’s voice was low when he spoke.

Kris nodded against Adam’s back, “I know, but we will.”

“So much faith,” Adam laughed, low and gentle.

“Does that surprise you?”

“No.  It should, but no, it does not,” Adam admitted, wiping off his hands and turning to face Kris.  “The British Navy is putting more ships out to sea each week.  They’re closing in on us.  Two more of my brethren were hanged this month along with their crews.  It’s part of the reason that I came to see you here, in Charles Towne.  If this is our last chance...”

“It will not be!”

“If it is, then I want you to know that I love you,” Adam spoke over Kris, “And I would give you something.  It’s not worth much, not anymore, but it’s been with me since I was young.”

Adam rubbed a thumb over one of the rings on his hand.  The ring was tarnished, silver once upon a time, heavy and solid.  It was simple too, just a crest with a flower etched in the centre.  Kris had seen it before.  In fact, it had been on Adam’s hand for as long as Kris had known him, but now, Adam was tugging it off and holding it out to Kris.

“This is the seal of my family,” Adam told him, “My father gave it to me and his father gave it to him.  It used to have some weight but not now.  Not anymore.”

“Another story for another time?” Kris smiled.

Adam nodded, his eyes never leaving the ring, “This...  This is my promise to you, my word that no matter where I go or how many leagues are between us, I will be thinking of you and trying to find my way back to your side.”

“Adam,” Kris stepped back a step, “You are starting to worry me.  What’s happening?  What has you so worried?  This isn’t like you.”

“There is nothing that I can point at and say ‘that is it’, but I have lived on my luck and my wits for the whole of my life and I feel that my luck is running thin,” Adam shook his head.  “There are clouds gathering on the horizon and I fear that a storm is coming.  I would have you know, truly and unequivocally, my feelings.  Would that I could find a preacher who would marry us, I’d drag you there in an instant and damn the consequences.”

“And I’d go with you,” Kris said, a tinge of regret in his voice.

“Take this ring then, as my promise, as my heart,” Adam took Kris’ hand in his and slid the ring onto his finger.

A kiss settled it there.  Kris bit his lip as he watched, heart speeding up to skip in his chest, cheeks burning.  A thought flashed through his mind and he snapped his hand back.  He turned away, mind working to catalogue everything that he had with him but his mind blanked.  

“Kris?” Adam’s voice was carefully neutral and that made Kris turn back.  

Adam’s perfect features were marred by a devastating frown and suddenly, Kris realised that he had worried Adam with his sharp actions.

“Oh Adam, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to...” Kris trailed off.  “I have nothing for you.  I just realised it.  The cross that my mother gave me the first day that I stepped onboard a ship, the ring that my grandfather gave me before he passed.  They are all at home.  I have nothing to match your promise.”

“Kris, you need give me nothing,” Adam tried to reassure him, “I don’t need anything from you but your love.”

“And you have it but...”

Kris shook his head, still turning over the contents of his pockets in his mind until it caught on a chance, a bare chance, but something.  He ran to his breeches, to the pockets and there, hidden in the fold of his purse was his lucky charm.  He thumbed it and kissed it before holding it out to Adam.

“All I have is this,” Kris said.  “It’s my shilling.”

Adam’s brow drew together, “Your shilling?”

“My commission shilling.  The King’s shilling, or Queen’s in this case,” Kris explained.  “I got it from my first Captain my first day in uniform.  I was just an ensign then, young and foolish and expecting magic from the seas.  What I got was hard work, and lessons in mathematics and cartography, and every muddy job on board.  I doubt I was clean for the first four years I served, but this shilling went with me anywhere that I did.  It never left me, to the point where I almost forgot that I had it but...”  Kris sighed, “I know it’s not a family heirloom or even something of value, but it’s the only thing that’s truly mine.”

“Not the only thing,” Adam stepped close again, taking Kris’ hand in his.

“I would have you take it, keep it, as my promise, as my heart.”

Adam hesitated, “Kris, you don’t need to...”

“It feels right this way,” Kris looked up at Adam, into his eyes, “promised to each other, equal partners in this venture, both carrying a piece of each other’s heart with us wherever we go, able to touch something precious whenever we need to, or simply want to.  It’s not an engagement ring, pretty and precious with gems and a band that would snap as soon as you did even a day’s work, and it’s not a one-sided commitment.  This is both of us, promised and wanting each other in every possible way.  It’s more than a promise.  It sounds like a line in some romance serial, I know, but...  Maybe it’s this whole business with Katy, maybe it’s just our lives, or maybe it’s just realising that life is a fleeting thing and every moment is one to be embraced but this, this bring us closer, connecting us across the distance.”

Adam smiled, “Eloquent words.”

A bang came on the door and a man’s voice sounded on the other side, “Captain, it’s time.”

Kris rolled his eyes, “Duty is a harsh mistress.”

He pushed the shilling into Adam’s hand, closing his fingers around the coin.  Adam nodded and held it close, pressing it against his chest.  Kris reached out and touched his hand, a smile on his lips.

“Now, best get you dressed.”  It was a battle to get the words out.  “Not seemly for the Master of the Madness to step aboard his ship half naked.  What would the men think, other than that I was a very lucky man?” Kris picked up Adam’s shirt and handed it to him.

They dressed, swapping laughs as they realised that what Kris had thought was Adam’s shirt was actually his own and much too small for Adam’s broader frame.  They stilled as the final buttons were done, cuffs straightened.  There was nothing left to do now but say goodbye.  

Whispered kisses and barely uttered promises were as close as they came to saying the words.  They stood, foreheads touching, the ghost of breath on each other’s lips and savoured their last moments together.  When they separated, it was by conscious force. 

Kris stood at the window and watched Adam’s hooded figure make his way through the streets, pausing only long enough to look back up at the window of their room, at Kris.  Kris breathed heavily as Adam disappeared from view and as morning finally broke, turned away from the window and made his way downstairs and back to a reality too harsh to bear.

 

 

 



 

Accusatory eyes greeted him when he arrived home; his mother’s and Daniel’s.  Kris tucked his thumb, and the ring, under his fingers, feeling the solid weight pressing against his skin and took a deep breath. 

“Kristopher, where have you been?  You said that you were walking the doctor to his rooms and then did not return.  I have been frantic waiting for you,” his mother cried out, pulling him into a fierce embrace and then pushing him back to glare at him. 

“I had to look to my ship, mother.  With the time that I spent here, I am afraid that I have quite neglected my duties,” Kris stood firm, shoulders squared through the lie.  “The doctor assured me that there was little that I could do here but that over the next few days I may be needed here.  I slept aboard ship last evening and returned here at first light.”

She seemed to accept his word and Kris eased the set of his shoulders.  His brother’s eyes were still on him, his lips curled up disdainfully, even as their mother decided that a hearty breakfast was what was called for at this time.  She disappeared off to tell the cook, leaving Kris and Daniel alone in the hallway. 

“Do you have more pretty lies to tell, Kris, or should I just assume that every word that tumbles forth is false?” Daniel asked, crossing his arms over his uniform jacket.

Kris sighed, “I don’t know what you are talking about Daniel.”

“A fine crew you have,” Daniel started, “loyal as anything but weak in the face of an officer with more clout than the piddling excuse of a Lieutenant like the one that you left on board.  Your cabin was empty, brother, the sheets tidy and cold.  So perhaps you’d like to share with me the truth of last evening before I find it for myself?”

“And why are you so interested, Daniel?”

Daniel’s sneer turned mocking, “You worried our mother so much that she was unable to sleep last night.  She walked from Katherine’s room to her own to yours and back again.  A _good_ son could not bear to see his mother in such a state so I went to track you down.”

“How good of you,” Kris didn’t quite manage to keep the bite from his voice.

“Indeed, so colour me surprised when I went to your ship and did not find you there, and your crew claimed not to have seen you for days.  Nor did they know anything of bringing a doctor and his apprentices to shore so they could treat your beloved.”

Kris barked a sharp laugh, “You said it yourself, Daniel.  My crew is loyal and bonded by hardship the likes of which I hope you never know.  With our ordeal on _The Madness_ and with the resulting actions taken by the Admiralty, they have become less trusting by far of any man wearing officer’s gold.  I could have been standing on deck before you and they would have sworn blind that they had not seen me,” Kris smiled a cold and bitter smile.  “A captain is only as good as his crew, Daniel, best you remember that.  And remember also that you will have to sail ten thousand leagues and more before you’ll come close to matching the calibre of men that I have amongst my crew.”

Daniel rolled his eyes.

“As it happens,” Kris affected a casual air, “I was aboard ship last evening, going over the inventory logs and making sure that Lieutenant Archuleta had completed all the Admiralty’s paperwork adequately to ensure that my men were paid their fair and just wage and that everything was in order for our next trip, whenever that may be.  There were also some minor pieces of repair work to be completed.  Perhaps you’d like me to bring you aboard so that you can see my handprints in the pitch, or the splotches that I made on the stack of papers when I fell asleep still holding my quill?  Because I will gladly take you down there and release my men from any obligations that they may feel bound by so that you can have your truth.”

“You’ve already confirmed that your men would lie for you,” Daniel shrugged, “what use have I for more lies?  But mind this well, brother, I will have the truth and when I do, I’m sure that the Admiral will be most interested in what I have to say.”

“I wasn’t aware that the Admiral and you were such wonderful tavern friends.”

“A lot has changed, Kris,” Daniel smiled.  “I refuse to have my career scuppered because you showed such poor judgement.  The Admiral sees a promise in me, he’s told me so, and knows that I am loyal still, despite my brother’s sympathies.”

Kris drew in a breath, his anger rising as he brother all but called him a pirate, but anger would do him no good here, and losing his temper would not help his brother see reason.  He tapped it down.

“Gielham is using you, Daniel,” Kris warned.  “He would do anything to ruin me. He’s told me so himself.”

“The Admiral cares nothing for you save wanting to clear the navy of soft-hearted officers who cannot follow the simplest of instructions,” Daniel shook his head.

“Gielham plays games on levels you know nothing of,” Kris tried to warn his brother but there was a fervour in Daniel’s eyes that Kris doubted he could extinguish with mere words.  “He is a master manipulator, a strategist on the water and off, and if you are not careful, then you will be caught in the crossfire.”

“You know nothing,” Daniel hissed.

“I know more than you think, Daniel, and you would do well to listen to me on this.”

“Listen to you?  And follow you down a path that leaves duty behind?  I think not,” Daniel stepped back, turning on his heel.

“Duty is not everything,” Kris breathed out the words.

It had taken him long enough to figure that out, a wealth of years and the love of a pirate.  He pressed his fingers against the ring, feeling the smooth metal and finding comfort there.

“And that is why I will never follow in your footsteps,” Daniel sneered and left, striding up the stairs and disappearing down the corridor towards his room.

Kris shook his head.  He loved his brother, of course he did, but love and trust were two separate qualities, and at this moment in time, he could not dare trust a word from his brother’s mouth.  The Admiral had gotten to him, spun him a tale with golden epaulettes at the end.  Kris just hoped that Daniel would realise the danger that he was in before the Admiral discarded him, abused and broken.  That said though, another part, a darker part of him could not help but think that Daniel deserved what was coming if he ignored Kris’ advice.  Guilt flittered through him at the thought and he prayed for forgiveness immediately, crossing himself as he did.  Kris had said it himself; the Admiral was a tactician of exceptional skill, playing a game of chess that others could not even hope to determine and Daniel was just another pawn on the board.  Kris had no doubt that he was a pawn also, and one that was on the verge of being taken.  How far would the Admiral push Daniel?  How far would Daniel bend? 

With a sigh, Kris climbed the stairs, going to Katy’s room to check on her.  Maya was packing up the last few of her items and smiled as she saw him. 

“Good, child, you are here,” she smiled and gathered him into a hug, “I did not want to leave before I saw you.”

“Leave?” Kris frowned.

“Why yes,” Maya nodded, “The Captain sails shortly and I must go with him.  Damballa alone knows what sort of trouble that boy will get into without me there at his side to keep him whole.”

Kris shook his head, feeling stupid that he had not thought that his friends would need to leave with Adam.  He was so focused on his own petty problems that the thought had not even occurred to him.  But of course Adam would need his physicians with him. 

“I understand,” Kris helped her by picking up her shawl and handing it over to her. 

Maya looked at him and smiled, “No, child, you don’t.  But one day maybe.”

Kris didn’t know what she meant by that but forced a smile anyway.

She hugged him again, pulling him close, “None of that, child.  It won’t be long until we meet again and your girl will be on her feet before then.  She is doing well.  A strong girl, that one, and every bit as stubborn as you.  Mind you keep her safe.  She has a good and pure spirit, even through all of this.”

“The procedure worked, then?” Kris hardly dared ask the question, looking down at Katy, at the bandage around her head tinted pink in spots.

“We think so,” Maya nodded, releasing Kris.

Kris took a timid step closer, taking Katy’s tiny hand in his and raising it to his lips.  Her cheeks had a little more colour today and she had lost a little of the look of death that she had when first he saw her. 

“Good.  That’s good.”  Kris pulled his eyes away from her, “And what must I do to care for her?  Are there things I must prepare?  How often should I change her dressings?”

Maya frowned, “And why would you be doing such a thing?  Manish will take care of such things.  Men, I swear to... You think there is not a thing you cannot do.  She is stronger, true, but she is not beyond the harbour wall yet, child.  Manish knows this medicine much better than I and so it is he who will stay and tend her while I deal with the half-grown children that the Captain calls crew.  There’s not much I haven’t seen in my time onboard ship, and even less that I cannot deal with.”  She looked at Kris’ face, really looked at it and must have seen the relief and confusion that he felt painted there.  “Oh, child, no.  We love you as one of our own.  We wouldn’t leave you abandoned like that.  Manish and Tommy are staying here with you, but a ship without a doctor is like a child loose in the cupboards.  With as much trouble as that ship finds, we’d go back to find two planks of wood floating on a wave and only if luck was smiling on us.”

“But Tommy...?” Kris started.

Maya laughed, “The Captain will have to fix his own shirts for a while.  Manish on his own would be a trial and what of the great Doctor Ratliff?”

Indeed, the ruse played meant that Tommy would have to stay and accompany Manish, giving him the cover that Manish needed to complete his work.  Kris felt a little guilty about that, but glad in equal measure. 

“Allow me then to walk you to the harbour?” Kris asked.

Maya shook her head, “No, child, but thank you.  Sit with Miss Katherine and see to her.  I’ve already asked one of the boys wandering the halls to arrange for a carriage for me.  I’ve not been in one before and it will be a royal treat.”

Kris smiled at that and called out to one of the servants, a maidservant charged with cleaning the upper floors.

“Edith,” he pressed two shillings into her hand, “Please take Miss Maya to the port.  She is needed aboard her ship.  Tell anyone who would say anything that this is at the request of my father and that if there is a problem, that he will deal with matter in a most serious manner.”

Edith curtseyed and hurried off to grab her shawl.  Kris hugged Maya, holding her close and kissing her cheek. 

“Take care of him, Maya.  Keep him safe for me?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Maya murmured, wiping her eyes, “Now I best go before the damned fool tries to sail without me!”

Kris laughed and helped her down the stairs with her bags, loading them into the carriage for her.  Edith followed Maya into the carriage and with a crack of the whip, they were off.  When he turned back to the house, Tommy stood just behind him.  He was still dressed in Brad’s clothes, looking every inch a fine and proper gentleman.  Kris smiled at him and headed up the stairs, inviting him to breakfast.  Tommy hesitated but finally agreed when Kris’ mother insisted.

Manish was already seated when they reached the dining room.  Kris hesitated at the door when his eyes hit the table, stumbling a half step as thoughts of Katy and the previous evening flashed across his mind’s eye.  There was no trace of blood or anything else to be seen but still...  Tommy’s hand came to rest on the small of his back and Kris steadied himself.

Breakfast was mostly a quiet affair, a strained silence descending over the table as soon as Daniel appeared, and broken only by Kris’ father turning to Manish to ask him about his travels.

“Ah, that is a long story to tell,” Manish wiped his mouth delicately with his napkin.  “I was apprenticed to a missionary doctor back in my home village in India.  I was a sickly child, you see, and my parents thought that it would be best if I stayed with the man, working for my keep and my health.  The doctor, Doctor John, and his wife, Sarah, were rather advanced in years and unfortunately her health was such that she could not carry children.  I became a surrogate child for them, I suppose, and Doctor John taught me to speak English, as well as my native Hindi.  However, the only books that Doctor John had with him were medical textbooks.  I knew about the inner workings of the human body long before I knew of any of the stories that children should know.  The cholera killed him when I was just seventeen, Lord rest him.”

Kris’ mother reached out and placed her hand over Manish’s, patting it gently in consolation.  Manish placed his free hand over hers and squeezed it in silent thanks.

“He had led a long and good life, Madam Allen.  However, with Doctor John gone, Sarah wished to return home.  She was welcomed to stay in the village, and they would have been happy to keep her there, an honoured elder, but she wanted to return to England, to her family’s homestead.  She asked me to accompany her and I did, happily.  We boarded a merchant ship and sailed for England the very next week.  The voyage was arduous and long but we made it.  I’ll admit that I felt a little lost once we reached London and even more so as we reached Somerset.  In India, in my village, there were a hundred families all close, pressed tightly against each other.  A mother to one child was mother to the village.  That was very much not the case in England, but still I stayed.  I could do nothing less,” Manish shrugged.

“Of course not,” Kris’ mother nodded.

“Sarah used the influence of Doctor John’s name and her own family name to see me apprenticed to a local doctor who owed the family a debt.  He resented that he was forced to take me on, but I did my best to keep out from under him until such time as he allowed me to see some patients,” Manish took a drink of his tea.  “They were servants mostly and beneath the notice of Doctor Foyles.  It mattered not to me if they were servants or gentry, I was eager to learn and more eager still to start my own practice.  I was a good doctor, though those are my own thoughts.  I lost a few patients, as all doctors do, but I cured more of my patients than not and was gaining an amount of renown for myself.  Doctor Foyles was less happy about this than I was, unfortunately, and he devised a rumour to ensure that my patients stopped coming.  Sarah was furious but she had a plan.  She gave me a small sum of money and told me to go to Plymouth to find a merchant ship in need of a surgeon.  The money was enough for me to buy my own set of tools and merchant ships are constantly in need of someone to patch and mend.  I had to swab the decks with the men and my skill at stitching found more use on the sails than on the sailors, but I was happy enough there,” Manish admitted.  He quietened for a moment, his eyes focused on a faraway place. 

“Sarah died when I was at sea but she left me a note telling me that she was proud of me and of the man that I had become.  I took time to visit her resting place and then I was back on a ship sailing for far off lands.”  He smiled.

“I ran into Doctor Ratliff and Miss Maya on a passage from the African to Boston, I think it was.  He approached the Captain for passage and following a fire on board, we realised that our skills matched quite well.  Miss Maya is a renowned herbalist whose match I have never seen.  She has a magnificent way with the patients too, a bedside manner that neither Doctor Ratliff nor I have been able to match, unfortunately.  Doctor Ratliff is from a long line of doctors back in England so you could say that he was born with a scalpel in his hand, which doubtless discomforted his mother.”

There were a few polite laughs around the table.  Kris was amused, not by the story but by Manish’ telling of it.  He had been worried that Manish would skip over a web of falsehoods and lies, or forget the cover story that had been hastily arranged the previous day, but the man was a storyteller.  His voice, rich and deep with his Indies accent, was lyrical and drew you in to a world tinged with the most exotic spices and vivid colours.  Kris had never seen this side of the man.  Of course, their first introduction had involved Manish’s ever present bag of tools and an apparent over-eagerness to use them and Kris' experiences had been heavily coloured by their initial encounter.  Adam would love the story, as would Katy when she was recovered.

“We make a living either consulting or hiring on for short voyages, usually on ships carrying passengers, though, it has to be said.  They pay better, as I’m sure that you can imagine.”

“And what of pirates?” Daniel broke into the flow of Manish’s words.

Manish looked at Daniel, head tilted to one side, “They are a threat that knocks on the door of every man and woman on the waves, sure, but our company has been lucky so far.  Wouldn’t you agree, Doctor Ratliff?”

Tommy smiled, pushing his plate forward, “Yes, very.  We’ve seen our fair share of the after effects, but that’s only to be expected with the routes we take.  Rumour has it that the Navy is tired of the scourge and setting more ships to sail out of England.  Is that true, Lieutenant Allen?”

Daniel said nothing for a moment, his eyes narrowing to slits, “And where did you hear a rumour such as that?”

Tommy smiled, charming and open, “We sail with a crew of old sailors, Lieutenant.  There are none that gossip more and when they are ashore, one can guarantee that they are in a tavern talking with others of their measure.  Stories get told, and tales embellished beyond belief.  Rumours and words are a currency there, as I’m sure you’ve found.”  He sat back and thought for a moment, “It must have been from John Smithwick that we heard it.  We’d just ported in Boston and were set to sail down the coast again.  You remember Smithwick don’t you?” he looked to Manish, “The lad with one leg and that mangy wig?”

“Oh yes, and the itch,” Manish shook his head, “A terrible fellow to be sure, but a hard worker.  He’d come from Bristol on a trading ship, he said.”

“Yes,” Tommy agreed, “Told us that he’d seen three fresh ships in the port there being rigged and made ready when he left the harbour.  I imagine that they’re part of the Queen’s Navy now and making short work of whoever crosses their paths.”

“And none too soon,” Manish said.  “There are some fearsome rogues out there threatening good and honest hard-working folk.  It’s hard enough to make a living on the waves without putting up with the ilk of Hornigold and Rackham.  Dreadful really.”

“And Lambert?  What of him?” Daniel pressed.

“Lambert?  Of _The Madness_?” Tommy asked.  “There is a man, at least I presume he is a man and not some wayward spirit.  Such stories are told that I find it hard to believe that he is anything less than a genius at misdirection and magick.”  Tommy shook his head.  “But _The Sprite_ spends most of her time up in the northern waters and I believe _The Madness_ sails to the south?  A lucky thing too.  I would not like to face _The Madness_ across the water.”

“Nor me,” Manish agreed.  “The stories that I’ve heard of her; Dead men standing on the deck, skeletons wielding swords, fiery sails.  It’s all a little frightening.” 

Kris put his tissue to his lips, covering his smile at this piece of breakfast theatre.  Manish and Tommy were in their element, bouncing off each other in such a way that it was impossible to believe that they were being less than honest.  Daniel was scowling at both men, obviously unsatisfied with their answers.  Kris worried that Daniel already knew that the men were part of _The Madness_ ’s crew and was simply trying to trick them into revealing something that would incriminate themselves but Tommy and Manish handled it perfectly, entertaining with their banter and making Kris’ mother laugh.  Even Kris’ father smiled at their antics.

“Doctor Ratliff, you asked me to remind you to attend the patient at nine, that there was a tincture that needed to be administered.  It’s five before at the moment,” Manish flicked away his pocket watch.

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, Missus Allen, medicine I fear is a harsher mistress than even the sea,” Tommy pushed back his chair and stood, bowing lightly to Kris’ mother before leaving, Manish in his wake.

“I should...” Kris gestured at the door.

Kris left to follow them at his mother’s leave and hurried after them.  He closed Katy’s door behind him, quietly turning the key in the lock as soon as he entered.  He listened at the door for a second before he was satisfied.  There were no footsteps on the landing outside, no hint that Daniel had followed them up.  Good.  When he turned to look at them, Kris saw identical expressions of curiosity mixed in part with amusement.

“Daniel knows something, I'd swear it,” Kris started to pace, fingers playing over the surface of the ring.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Tommy reached out and laid a hand on Kris’ shoulder.  “He may suspect, but nothing more than that.”

“He went to the ship last night to find me and claims that as proof that I was up to nefarious purposes.  He’s in league with the Admiral.  He admitted as much in the hallway this morning.”

Tommy seemed to consider that for a moment, “Troubling, but not all that unexpected.  As I said though, it can be little more than a suspicion.  Neither Manish nor I are known faces in the Admiralty.  The only men who know us are attached to your crew and not likely to sell their secrets for a bottle of rum.”

“If Daniel keeps pressing though...” Kris let his words trail off.

“If he keeps pressing then we will worry about it then,” Tommy smiled.  “Manish and I are practiced at subterfuge and we have friends enough here to ensure that nothing is discovered that we do not wish to be discovered.  Until then, play your part as the doting fiancé and worry only about Miss Katherine and her recovery.  I’ll speak to a few friends in the tavern this evening and keep a watch of my own on the situation.  The Admiral may be tricksey, but he’s no match for us, sir.”

Kris fervently hoped that was true.  His mind still taxed, Kris didn’t resist as Tommy guided him towards a chair and made him sit.  The thoughts flick-flashing around his mind stopped dead as Katy’s hand tightened on his and a moan of pain echoed around the room.  Kris looked to Manish’s smiling face and then back at Katy.  Light filled the dark corners of his mind, washing away the worry for now.  He’d trouble about Daniel later, but for now there was hope.

 

 

 



 

Katy continued to recover though she remained weak for weeks.  A lot of her time was spent sleeping.  Kris was there as much as he could be, with his mother filling in when he was not able.  The Admiralty were less than pleased with Kris’ reluctance to spend more than a day or two away from Charles Towne but Kris could give a damn for their delicate sensibilities.  Daniel had sloped off during the night one evening and headed back to sea.  Kris was thankful of that and breathed a little easier.  The weather was rough, stormy without a break and his ship was hardly made for the harsh coastal winters that rolled in as soon as the last tree had shed its leaves.  Spring was coming soon, just beyond the horizon, and with its arrival, Kris would have no more excuses.

Kris talked to Katy endlessly, telling her tales and stories, and she laughed with excitement as Kris showed her the ring that Adam had given him, declaring it wonderful.  Her excitement was contagious and Kris found himself laughing along with her.  Tommy and Manish shared some stories with her also, and she relished every tale, asking questions and begging for more.  If anything, Kris would have sworn that she was as enamoured of the sea and the waves as a young child who dreamt of serving on a ship some day.  Tommy and Katy shared a sharp wit that saw the two becoming fast friends and endeavouring to make Kris’ life a sight more interesting.  She cried when Tommy announced that it was time for them to return to sea, hugging both of them to her and placing kisses upon their cheeks.  She managed to extract promises that they would stay safe and attempt to come visit her when they were back in the vicinity of Carolina again.  Kris held her as they watched the two men walking away towards the port.

Of course, though, Katy’s recovery meant that Kris’ mother was now firmly in the throes of planning their wedding, an affair even bigger now than it had previously been.  Katy feigned fatigue whenever the subject arose but Kris suspected that not every fatigue excuse was entirely fake.  He did what he could to ease the burden on Katy's waking days despite his mother's best efforts to draw them both into preparations.

 

 

 



 

It was a Monday morning some weeks later when the summons arrived.  Neatly written and signed by the Admiral’s own hand, Kris was instructed to present himself at the Admiralty with all due haste.  The missive was not entirely a surprise, but Katy’s reaction to it was.

“Well, of course, we must go, Kris,” she went to her wardrobe and pulled out a heavy lined cloak before calling for Ellie.  “Into uniform, quickly now.  We must not keep the Admiral waiting.”

Kris found himself shooed out of the room and could do little more than get himself ready.  She met him at the entryway, Ellie hale and hearty by her side, and brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder.

“Now, do be sure to thank the Admiral for his consideration for the past few months,” Katy instructed him.  “And convey my regards to him as well.”

“Of course, Katy,” Kris answered distractedly.

“Don’t let him speak down to you either, Kris,” Katy told him.  “He’s an arrogant sort due to his station but you are every bit the man that he is, and better because you use your heart.  Most likely he keeps his locked in a chest somewhere, frozen in ice or some such.”

“Aye.”

Katy captured his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her, “Kris, you’re not paying attention to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Of course you are,” she smiled.  “Think on it this way, love, he’s calling you in to do one of two things.  The first is to instruct you to take longer missions.  He can’t like the fact that you’ve stayed so close to Charles Towne over the last few months.  If that’s the case then you’ll nod and smile and go back to sea, where you’ll meet up with your pirate-love and have grand adventures.”

Kris blushed.

“The second is to cashier you and give you your freedom, at which point we’ll be on the first ship out to the Bahamas and I’ll get to meet your wonderful Captain.  Both ways have their positives, Kris.  So take things in stride and keep your head up,” Katy smiled and kissed him on the cheek. 

Kris blinked, “We?”

“What was that?”

“You said we,” Kris turned to face her fully.

“Well of course I did,” Katy rolled her eyes.  “If you go, then so do I.  There’s nothing for me here and after listening to your tales, well, it’s opened my eyes to a whole other world.  Honestly, I think a life of excitement and adventure is exactly what I need after my ordeal.  Oh, don’t worry,” she patted his hand, lips curling up into a faint smile, “I won’t try to steal your pirate captain from you.”

Kris laughed, “I would like to see you try, Katy, I honestly would, but perhaps you are a little lacking in the, ahem, breeches.”

“Oh, Kris, nonsense,” Katy patted his hand again, “A few yards of material and...  Oh!”  She blushed, hand going to her mouth.  “Oh, Kris, you are terrible.”

Katy kept up the light-hearted banter all the way to the Admiralty and then accompanied Kris inside.  Nods and smiles were directed her way and Kris was grudgingly acknowledged as almost an afterthought.  There were none at the Admiralty who did not know of Katy’s recent illness, or so it seemed as they navigated their way down to the Admiral’s office.  They were left to sit for an age but with Katy beside him, Kris felt the time pass quickly.  For the Admiral’s aide, however, the time must have seemed much longer as Katy asked question after question about the various paintings and ornaments appointing the room.  The aide, a young man who had yet to step foot aboard a real ship, knew little about the ships in the paintings or the battles depicted and Katy was less than impressed.

“Honestly, you would think that someone in such a position as yours would have done a little reading on the subject,” Katy fluttered her fan, “I mean, this is the Charles Towne Admiralty, a bastion of the British Empire and heart of Queen Anne’s Navy.  Why rumour has it that the colours flying on the mast outside were touched by the Queen’s own hand.  There are standards to be maintained and you, sir, are falling short.  Letting the side down, so to speak.  Were I prone to a flutter of chance, I would wager that my fiancé could tell me of each engagement here, and more than is etched on the engraved plate on the frame.  How do you ever expect to be a captain if you have not studied?”

It was a mite overstated and Kris had to duck his head to hide his smile.  A cough covered his laugh, just about.  Fluttering about the Admiral’s outer office, Katy reminded Kris of Brad holding court aboard _The Madness_ ; nose in the air and projecting a sense of superiority at every person standing before him.  Light and flighty with his words, a barb hidden in each sentence sharp enough to flay skin from bone, and totally unforgiving.  Lord help him when they met.

Oh dear Lord, Kris thought to himself as images of Katy standing shoulder to shoulder with Brad flitted across his mind.  He was not sure the world could survive such a meeting, but at least the silk merchants would profit?

“Katherine, dear, come sit beside me and leave the poor man to his work,” Kris entreated.

Katy sat with a flourish, snapping her fan up and letting it flutter quickly in front of her face.  He saw the telltale corners of a smile and had to duck his head again to hide his own. 

“The Admiral will see you now, Lieutenant Allen,” the aide finally announced and Kris rose.

With his hat tucked under his arm, and Katy left to sit outside, Kris entered the Admiral’s chambers.  The man sat behind his desk, looking up at Kris as he stepped in.  Kris saluted, crisp and clean and the Admiral waved him to rest.

“So you hide behind your fiancée’s skirts again today,” Admiral Gielham sneered.

“With respect, sir,” Kris kept his voice level, “I hide behind no one, man or woman.”

“Then what would you call refusing any orders that take you more than twenty leagues from Charles Towne?”

“Prudent, sir,” Kris snapped out.  “My fiancée was brutally attacked and almost mortally injured on the streets of Charles Towne and as yet the man has not been brought to justice.  I fear for her safety and her life.  There were missions enough to choose from and other officers were more than happy to take the longer voyages.  I do not see that there was a problem, Admiral.”

“You do not see?” the Admiral leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, “That much is obvious, but what can we expect from such as you.  A pirate sympathiser and probably worse.  I possibly should not have thought more highly of you.  You have put your own needs above those of the Navy, Lieutenant, and such an act is unforgivable in my eyes.  But the unforgivable is what I have come to expect from you.”

Kris said nothing, simply stood still, waiting for the Admiral to get to his point.  Katy was right.  Whatever the outcome of this little meeting, Kris would weather it and move on with his life, and with that thought, Kris stood easy.

“I have a task for you and your little ship,” the Admiral said after a while.  “We need you to transport a passenger north to Connecticut.  It’s a matter of some import and I, unfortunately, have no other ships that can be freed.  It will take a number of weeks, as you’re no doubt aware.  Think carefully on your answer, Lieutenant, because if you balk at this then there will be consequences.”

Kris said nothing for a moment, considering the matter, or rather pretending to and leaving the Admiral to stew for a few minutes.  His mind was already made up.

“Well, Admiral, as you’re no doubt aware, Katherine is...”

“I could care less about the welfare of a mewling quim such as the one that you are besotted with.  Live or die, she matters nothing to me, nor should she to you.  You have a duty to this office and to the Navy, and that should come before all else in your feeble little world.  I will have your answer, and I will have it now,” the Admiral pushed forward, spittle flying from his lips as he bellowed the words.

Kris’ eyes narrowed and he stepped closer to the Admiral, one hand coming to rest on his sword, “That is my fiancée that you speak of.  I will have respect for her, Admiral.”

“You will have what I give you and not a jot more.”

Kris snarled at the man, “I’m sure that I need not remind you of the rules of gentlemanly conduct, Admiral Gielham.  Were it but a few years ago, I would call you out.  Pistols at dawn out at the old duelling field, but alas that time is passed.  That may be good news for you as I doubt you’ve had much practical practice with that old pistol of yours.  Tell me, Admiral, do you keep it loaded still?  Or has it been left to rot alongside the rest of your manners.”

“I’ll have you stripped for your attitude, boy,” the Admiral was on his feet now and rounding his desk.

Kris stood his ground firmly, Adam’s ring a strong influence on his thumb, a strength and a weight that reminded him that he had nothing to lose here.  There were more important things in the world than petty power games and starched rules.  Let him be cashiered from the Navy.  It mattered nothing to him at this moment.

“And I’ll recount your words for all to hear.  I’m sure that the ladies hereabout would love to know how you really feel and considering that most of them are wed to your finest officers.  The words will travel back to Whitehall faster than your fastest ship.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” the Admiral towered over Kris, trying to intimidate him.

“There’s a lot that I would dare, Admiral.”

It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement and one so true that its honesty pushed the Admiral back a step. 

“You’ll have my answer tomorrow, Admiral, or perhaps the day after,” Kris snapped his heels together and turned, walking calmly towards the door.

“You forget, Lieutenant, who holds the power in Charles Towne,” the Admiral called after him.  “You were spared the gallows by a doddering fool.  That was the last of your luck.  Oh yes, boy, your golden luck is well and truly spent.”

Kris turned, his hand on the door handle, “Luck, I think you’ll find Admiral, is something that is completely unquantifiable, and I assure you that I still have my fair share left.”

Kris opened the door and calmly walked out, extending his arm to Katy on his way out.    The day was fresh and glorious, and Kris was filled with a joy that could not be named.  He felt lighter than he had in months, lighter than he had since Adam had sailed out to sea that last time, invigorated and ecstatic. 

“You’re smiling, Kris,” Katy whispered to him.

“I am.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“Possibly,” Kris winked at her.  “But first, let us lunch at one of the fine restaurants spread around this wondrous town and then take a jaunt down to the port.”

Katy shook her head, smiling along with him.

The joy was shattered mere moments after it was born as they were walking down the Admiralty corridors.  Sly whispers followed in their footsteps as men gathered in corners, their gazes flicking to Kris as he passed.  There was none of the welcome left from this morning, and even Katy was being regarded in the same light.  Kris could hear nothing and a worry settled in his stomach.  There was no way that news of his blatant insubordination had travelled through the Admiralty this fast.  He had left the Admiral’s office mere moments ago and not even the Admiralty’s rumour mill worked that quickly.  Kris tried to listen in, to pick up a stray word but there was nothing discernible in the gaggle of noise.

He stepped out into the street and saw men making for the Admiralty with all due haste.  He stepped to the side along with Katy lest the men forget themselves and run her over, and that was when Kris saw him, just a blond head sticking out from behind stonework, but recognisable none the less.

Tommy.

Kris made his way over, Katy rushing with him.  Tommy saw them hurrying over and ducked back into the alleyway that ran alongside the Admiralty building.  Kris joined him a second later, looking about behind him to see if anyone else was close by, lurking, but the Admiralty and whatever new gossip there was remained the primary interest of every man Jack that walked the streets.  Satisfied, Kris stepped deeper into the shadows of the Admiralty and turned to look at Tommy.  The man, usually so fastidiously turned out, was a veritable wreck.  His hair was uncombed and only barely smoothed into place.  His clothes were as far as a man could get from the finery that he wore the last time that Kris had seen him, in fact, they were barely serviceable and patched in places.  There was a nervousness to Tommy now that worried Kris and he had to force his hands to still lest they grab Tommy’s shoulders and shake the nerves from him.

“Tommy, man, what are you doing here?  What’s happened?” Kris asked, frowning.

“Are you well?” Katy asked.  “You look a fright.”

Tommy shook his head, “No, Miss Katherine.  Things are about as far from well as they can possibly be, I fear.”

There was a catch to his voice and a tone that set Kris’ already fraying nerves on edge.

“Is it Adam?  Has something happened? My Lord, is he dead?”

The thoughts of Adam lying in a pool of blood, his blood, came unbidden to his mind and Kris needed to brace himself against the wall.  His lips found Adam’s ring and he kissed the crest.

“Not dead, sir, not yet,” Tommy shook his head, “But...”

The rest of his words were lost and Kris could not restrain himself a moment longer.  He grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and shook him.

“Speak sense, man.  What’s happened?  Tell me now!”

“Kris,” Katy’s hand on his arm did nothing to sooth him.  “Let him speak.” To Tommy, gently, she spoke, “Go on.  Tell us.”

“He’s caught, sir, shackled, bound and caught.  Soon to face the hangman.”

“What?” Kris’ knees could not hold him and he stumbled backwards, his hand coming to his mouth to hold back a silent scream of despair.  “No.  No that cannot be.”

“It is, sir.  My life if it is a lie.  The Madness has lost her Master.”

 


	8. A Case of Madness

 [](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)  


  
**_12 th February 1711_ **   
**_Outside the Admiralty Building, Charles Towne, Carolina_ **

 

“How?  Why?  How?”

The sentences would not form and Kris was left stuttering out whatever half-formed thoughts came to mind in some hopeless attempt to put sense to Tommy’s words.  Katy’s hand came to rest on his arm but he pulled away, not able, not willing to take the comfort that she offered.   This was Adam.  This was the scourge of the seas, the pirate that all Navies wanted but none could come close to catching.  It wasn’t possible, simply unthinkable, that someone, some knave had outsmarted Adam and bound him to rights.  And what of  _The Madness_?  And Brad?  And the rest of the crew, his crew, _their_ crew?

“I don’t have much more than rumours, sir,” Tommy began, wringing his hands as he spoke, “but the news is up and down the coast already.  I raced back here fast as I could, damned near killed two nags to do it – begging your pardon for my language ma’am – but the news made it here a fraction faster than I could ride.   _The Dover_ berthed just shy of a half hour ago and they’ve been spreading it around town to every man with ears who can hear.”

“You must know something, man,” Kris pressed.

“Kristopher,” Katy tried to soothe him, but Kris could not stand this feeling of not knowing.  “Let Tommy tell you what he knows.  Haste is our enemy here, don’t you think?  Take a breath, dear, and once Tommy has his thoughts together he’ll tell you all he knows.”  She smiled at Tommy.  “I’m sure you must know something of the situation.”

“A little,” Tommy sighed, “but I know nothing as to the truth of the so-called facts.  One of Captain North’s men made port a little ways up the coast in the early hours of the morning and woke the keeper of the inn that I was staying in.  Pure luck that it was that inn, but that seems to be the last of the good news.  Their ship was battered and broken but she was sailing still, which her captain said was a long sight more than what  _The Madness_  was doing.  A ship, a big brute, a hundred and twenty guns by Captain Frost’s count and her convoy came across  _The Madness_  just as she left New Providence and set upon her there.  They hulled her while they were still a distance out and would have sunk her if not for Captain North’s interference.”

“North has sway with the Navy?  Has he turned?  Signed a letter of marquee?” Kris demanded.

“No, sir,” Tommy shook his head, “he gave them a bloody nose.  Him and the two ships that sail with him.  Frost captains one of them,  _The September Rose_.  They led them a chase and the bastards left  _The Madness_  to fester and die.  By all accounts, they had Captain Lambert already in chains when they gave chase.  I know nothing more than that, sir.  I would have stayed to get more information if I thought that I could but...”

Kris shook his head, “No, Tommy.  You did right.  I needed to know.”

Katy was by Tommy’s side a mere second later, her hands holding Tommy’s as they shook with the shock of the situation.

Kris’ head reeled as he tried to piece together the information that Tommy gave him but it was sparse.  Bleak.  Kris paced back and forth the width of the alley, his mind racing. A hundred and twenty guns; that meant a First Rate.  It wasn’t Charles Towne berthed.  Kris knew that without even having to think, but there were rumours of some new ships being dispatched from Plymouth to deal with piracy in the Caribbean.  Bound and pressed by the Admiralty with just that one purpose, they were to be captained by the most ruthless of men and under the flag of Admiral the Lord Byng.  This must be one of those vessels.  Why, though, did they leave  _The Madness_ to sink rather than strike the final nail home?  Byng had a reputation for leaving no enemies at his back.  He was famed for an efficiency second to none.  Surely spotting North’s flotilla alone wouldn’t lead them to simply abandon their prey, especially not once she was disabled.  So why...?  What game was Admiral Byng playing?

Kris shook his head, shaking the thoughts away for a second to focus instead on  _The Madness_.  If they left her to simply sink, then who was to say that she had?  All the talk was about Adam being captured but not of the destruction of  _The Madness_.  Was it possible that they had underestimated  _The Madness_?  Kris hoped so.  Kris had worked with each man on that crew and if there was a way to keep her afloat, then by the Good Lord above, they would keep her on the waves.   It was weak hope, but it was something.

A sliver of an impossible plan started to form in Kris’ mind.  He could not stand idly by and leave Adam to swing on the end of a rope.  That was not the man that he was, but to succeed would require help and a lot of it.  If _The Madness_ still sailed above the waves, then what other ship was better to cause a distraction?  But that would only work if she was within the range of _The Dainty_ , and Kris prayed that she was.

“When you spoke to Frost, did he give you an idea of where  _The Madness_  sailed when they were attacked?” Kris asked, turning on his heel to face Tommy.

“Aye, sir, but...”

“And what of the First Rate?  Do you know in which direction North led her off?”

“Yes, sir.”

“ _The Dover_ made port here but she is known to be a fast ship.  A First Rate may have more armaments than God himself, but she cuts the water like a rock, that is to say not at all, and if she has been damaged, then she’ll be limping slower still.  There is a chance, a bare chance that we may pull off a coup the like of which will leave Charles Towne the laughing stock of the entire Navy.”

“I’m not sure that I understand, Kris,” Katy tapped her fan against her palm.

Kris smiled and kissed her cheek, “Nor should you.  These are nefarious dealings and underhanded doings, Katy, and not the type of endeavour that you should know of.  Not if the part you are due to play is to be pulled off with your usual sense of flair and drama.”

Katy tilted her head to the side and Kris saw the hints of a smile play around her eyes and tug at her lips.   

“Tommy and I must go to _The Dainty_ with all due speed.  We have a course to negotiate,” Kris tapped his chin. “Katy, I shall see you home first of course, but then leave you to your part.  If you are agreeable, of course.”

Katy tapped her fan against her hand as she smiled, “If you call a carriage, you may see me home and while we travel, you can tell me of this plan of yours and of my part in it.  Once home, I’ll give your apologies to your mother and tell her that the Admiralty dispatched you on an urgent mission.”  She paused, the smile fading a fraction, “Kris, I know that this mission is one that your heart commands you to undertake but...” she paused, “the Admiral is looking for the slightest of reasons to see you disgraced.  Please, think of that before you set sail and head for the sunset.  Make your plan weatherproof and leave no room for that rat to sneak in.  And you’ll need to talk to Lieutenant Archuleta, between you both, I’m sure that you can finagle a reason to take to sea so suddenly.”

She was right, of course, but Kris had already thought of that. 

Kris took her hand, kissing her knuckles, “I already have a reason, my dear.  Repairs.  After being under fire in not one but two sea battles, these fine new ships will need to be repaired.  They can’t be seen as less than perfect as they bring the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean to justice.  That’ll give us colours enough to get close to them and then hopefully, if luck is on our side, we’ll steal Adam out from under them.”

Katy considered that for a second but she was not convinced.  Kris knew the hubris of captains, and the reputation of Admiral Byng, and he would want nothing less than perfection as he accomplished the one thing that the Charles Towne Admiralty could not, and on their first voyage.  Oh yes, this would work very well indeed.  The only possible problem that Kris could see was timing, but he knew the waters around this region better than any shining star from London.  If he could not manage this, then he did not deserve to call himself an officer.  There was no time to lose.

A scarce thirty minutes later, Katy was safely ensconced in Kris’ home and Kris was on his way to the port, confident that Katy knew the role that she had to play in the coming days and weeks.  It was a difficult one, but Kris knew that she would surpass any expectations that Kris had. Tommy had headed straight to the port to start shaking the men from their taverns.  Kris stepped out of the carriage and flicked a coin to the driver.  The first of the men were starting to gather on the dock.  Kris nodded to them as he walked down the gang plank. 

“Kris?” Archie ducked as he stepped out from below decks.  “What’s wrong?  Tommy showed up and said that we’re setting sail.”

“We are,” Kris turned to the officer of the watch and called out, “Raise the Blue Peter, John, and start rounding up the men.  Cook,” Kris turned to the man, “meet with the harbourmaster.  Get us enough lumber and pitch to patch half a fleet.  Nails, hammers, sheets and sails.  Everything you can think of.  Get it loaded as fast as you can.  I want to catch the next tide.”

“Kris,” Archie reached out to catch Kris’ arm, “What the heck is going on?  Cook, belay that order.”

Kris bit back the growl that came to his throat, “Cook, get moving.  If the harbourmaster asks about payment tell him that it’s going on the Admiralty’s tick.”  Cook looked to Archie but nodded and left, grabbing a few men to go with him.

“Tommy,” Kris called out and Tommy’s head popped out from below decks.  “Take a complement of men and knock on every door down Silver Street.  Get them out of whatever corners they’re holed up in or whatever bed they’ve paid for and back on this ship as soon as you can.  Tide turns in two hours and I want every man who can walk straight on board by then.”

Tommy nodded and headed off, pulling some of the men on the dock with him.

Kris walked back to his wardroom.  Archie followed him annoyance radiating with every step.  Kris stood in front of the heavy oak table, his knuckles pressed against the wood as he waited for the door to close, his eyes on the map spread out on the table before him.

“It’s Adam,” Kris controlled the emotion in his voice, the faint break as he said Adam’s name.  “It’s  _The Madness_.”

Archie was quiet, and Kris turned to face him.

“Archie, I know that we’ve had our difficulties recently and that you don’t agree with some of my choices.  Despite that, I consider you to be my friend.  You’ve been beside me, stalwart and constant, but what I’m about to do breaks more rules than are written in the Articles.  With your uncle...  With your career...” Kris let his words fade out.  “I cannot order you on this mission and even if I could, I would not.  You have before you, two options.  The first is to stay in port and I promise that I’ll defend to the death the fact that you knew nothing of my plans.”

“I  _do_  know nothing of your plans, so that won’t be too far a stretch of the truth,” Archie ran a hand through his hair.  “Kris, tell me, what has happened?  You say that it’s Adam, that it’s _The Madness_ but nothing more than that but expect me to make a decision based on those words.  You give me an opportunity to stay here while you sail away with enough timber to build your own ship, but of the vital details, you tell me nothing.  If something has happened, tell me.  I’m with you in every action you take, you should know that, but you must confide in me.”

Kris turned, and perched on the edge of the table as he took a breath, wondering where to start.

“News is, by now, all over port that Adam has been captured,” Kris started.  “Tommy was fortunate enough to have been staying in a small inn up the coast when one of North’s lieutenants made land and he had more of the story.  _The Madness_ has been attacked but thanks to North’s swift intervention, she has not been sunk yet.  Or at least, she was not sunk when last they saw her.  They mean to bring Adam back to Charles Towne for trial and execution.”

“If there’s to be a trial,” Archie wrung his hands, “then possibly Adam may not...”

Kris cut in, “Let us not be fools, Archie.  If there is to be a trial then Adam will hang for what he has done.  There are no fancy words that can save him.  A night or two reading every book in the law library will do him no justice, and partially we are to blame for that.  The evidence given at our trials will tie the noose around his neck without another word behind said.”

Archie’s shoulders slumped but he could not deny the truth in Kris’ words.  He looked past Kris to the pane glass window.  He shook his head and sighed.

“So your plan?” Archie asked after a moment.

“My plan is twofold,” Kris started.  “Our first goal is to see whether _The Madness_ still sails and then to repair her enough to get sailing under her own sails.  We will need a distraction and what better distraction than the merciless ghost ship that will not sink.  The second goal is to attempt to free Adam before they ever reaches Charles Towne.”

Archie chewed on his lip, “That’s a tall order.  There’s no way...”

Kris shook his head, “It is going to be difficult and if we do this, and we succeed, then we can no longer call ourselves officers of the British Navy.  Even if we do not succeed, then we are closing doors on any hopes of a career that we might have.  We will be nailing our colours to the mast and there will be no going back.  I’m declaring my loyalties here and now.  I will not let Adam meet his death while there is a single avenue left for me to travel.  But, Archie, you must follow your heart.  I will not draw you into this.  If you opt to stay here, I will think no less of you.  This is a big decision.  Think on it a while but I must ask your answer before the tide turns.”

Archie barked a half laugh, “You have a wicked sense of understatement, Kris, do you realise that?  If I say yes, then I turn my back on my family.  If I say no, then I turn my back on my friends.”  He took a breath, “My mother, she will understand my decision.  My uncle less so, but Kris, I cannot stand idly by and let you sail into danger alone.  I helped you rebuild this ship from a mere hull and I cannot have you taking her into danger without me to keep our course steady.  Besides, I have read every book on tactics ever written and you may need that skill.  Now, let us stop wiling away the time below decks and get this ship seaworthy.”

 

 

 



 

Kris tied down the last of the timber with his men and pulled the ropes tight.  The deck was covered and below decks was packed to the rafters in every corner.  The men would have to find whatever space they could down there but that was the least of Kris’ problems.  Storm clouds hovered just on the horizon, threatening rough seas and harsh winds.  The last of the provisions were carried in and Kris gave the orders to cast off.  Archie and Tommy were down below poring over the maps and working out where they could shave off precious hours from their journey, but with a storm rolling in; it might all be in vain.

“Take us out, Smithy, straight as you can and with the tide,” Kris spoke to the helmsman.  “You’ve got your heading?”

“Aye, sir,” Smithy replied and spun the wheel, catching it again and rocking it back into position.

“Sir?” one of the men called out to him and Kris turned.  “Is it true?  Are we sailing out to rescue _The Madness_?”

Kris smiled, “Yes, that’s the plan.  Word has it that we’ll need to be canny but they’re out there and currently crippled.  Just think of it, lads,” Kris raised his voice to address the men, “think of the look on Mister Bell’s face when we tack up and hand him the answer to all his prayers.”

“Aye, sir, ‘twill be a picture,” Smithy threw in, his laugh turning into a cough and he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Kris stayed to listen to the men a moment longer before ducking down.  His wardroom had been turned into a storage place for the fresh sails.  They were folded up and stuffed under the solid oak table.  They were stacked up against one of the bulkheads, tied tight and solid.  They were covering the bench seats and oak chairs.  In short, the room had been transformed into a store with a few maps sitting on top and three men stepping carefully lest they cripple themselves.

“I’m telling you,” Tommy tapped the map, “ _The Madness_ barely scraped through that pass this time last year.  Anything heavier is going to flounder and have to work themselves free.  It’s not marked on the map because it’s off the shipping routes.  They’ll lose a day, maybe two going that way and they _will_ go that way.”

“I highly doubt...” Archie started.

“Doubt all you will, but you can see there that it’s not marked on the map.  It’s the most direct route back to Charles Towne from where North left them chasing his wake,” Tommy persisted.

“Gentlemen,” Kris interrupted, “We can argue until the sun sets but until we are closer, we’ll know nothing.  I suggest that we get some rest whilst we can.  It’s going to be tough going.  We’re weighed down so we should have a steadier base but I don’t like the weather that’s threatening.  _The Dainty_ wasn’t built for open sea sailing and my guess is that she’ll buck a bit before settling down to it.  We’ll need every ounce of your expertise before we’re done.  I’ll take first watch and make sure we make it out of the port.  Archie, you’ve got second with Cale taking third.”

Archie nodded and pulled on his jacket sleeves, straightening the cuffs before leaving.  Tommy watched him go and then turned to Kris.

“And what of me?” he asked.

“You’ll need to keep a low profile until we pass the harbour walls but after that, I’ll trust you to find work of your own.  Samuel will be happy to show you around our little ship.  He’s got the run of it,” Kris smiled fondly.  “He’s taken quite a shine to you and the job that you do for Adam.  I’d dare say that you should watch yourself lest he try to replace you on _The Madness_ herself.”

Tommy cocked an eyebrow and flicked his hair back with a haughty gesture, “He’s seen one of my jobs, but I’d doubt he’s seen more than that.”

Kris looked at Tommy, intrigued by his words and thought for a moment.  He had seen him cook and clean and muck in with the men.  He was Adam’s valet and his steward, but his words just now made it seem as if that were the least of his roles.  Kris was intrigued.

“What else might he see?” Kris asked.

Tommy merely smirked and took his leave, leaving Kris none the wiser.  Kris looked over the map again and the pencil marks that showed their current vector.  Archie’s neat marks also showed the last known position of _The Madness_.  Kris leaned heavily on the table, knuckles against the oak top as he looked from the map to the window and the port disappearing behind them. 

It was an amusing thought to Kris, now that he stopped to take stock.  A year ago, just a few short months, he had been the very exemplar of a British officer.  Duty came before all else and an order from the Admiralty was like unto the voice of God Himself laying down their path.  One day, one fateful battle and that had all changed.  Kris was now, effectively stealing a ship and sailing off to rescue his lover, his _pirate_ lover, from the chains of the very Navy that he still – tentatively - served. 

Just before they parted that first time, with the Navy blockade coming close to capturing Adam and _The Madness_ , Kris had made the decision to stay with Adam, to leave the Navy and sail the ocean waves by his lover’s side, but then duty had called.  Duty not to the Navy this time but to his men, and Kris could no more turn his back on them than he could walk away from Adam.  He’d lied and perjured himself and tied himself in knots trying to protect them, but he’d managed it.  He’d kept them safe.  He’d taken his farcical assignment, accepted every slight, just for the chance of seeing Adam again, and he’d never looked back.  Now, here he was, laden down with lumber bought on the Admiralty’s tick and destined to go to help _The Madness_ , the very ship stolen out from under him, in defiance of every rule and covenant that he’d signed his name to and the only thing that he felt was worry.  Not worry for his own safety or his own reputation, but rather worry for Adam and Brad and their men.  Mostly for Adam, it had to be admitted because if there was one constant in the universe, it was that Brad Bell would land on his fabulously buckled feet, fix the feather in his hat and get on with the task at hand. 

Adam, on the other hand...  Well, Adam was used to things going his own way.  That was evident from the times when Kris had turned the tables.  A growl, a bite and Adam was quick to try to retake the upper hand.  They said that Adam had the Devil’s own luck and as far as Kris could see, it was the truth.  With Byng at the helm though, Adam would have a hard time doing more than surviving, and Kris prayed that Adam didn’t push the Admiral too far.  Every last plan that he had racing around his mind was dependant on Adam being alive when Kris went to rescue him and Kris would be hard pressed to forgive him if Adam jeopardised his own life for a well timed jibe or a smart word.

 

 

 



 

Charles Towne disappeared into their white-topped wake in short order and Kris finally calmed down enough to release the breath that he had been holding.  The storm clouds still waited on the horizon but Kris set the course so that they would skirt the edges and feel the benefit of a sharp wind at their back.  Days passed and Kris couldn’t help but wait for something to go wrong, but the men were pulling together with a determination that Kris had not seen in them before.  The weather gave them everything that they needed, chasing them with a full sail wind, but even with that, it took them a full eight days before they saw black sails on the horizon.  _The Madness_ was indeed still above the deep but she was being towed by another ship, North’s ship if Kris had his guess. 

“Helm, close the distance,” Kris called from his place at the bowsprit, “fast as you can.”

As they tacked closer, Kris could see that the gun ports of both ships were open and the men waited ready on deck to prime and fire.  Kris nodded to the men standing at the stern and watched as they lowered the Red Ensign and unfurled a copy of _The Madness’_ own flag.  Archie stood by his side, knuckles white as he gripped the railing.

“Oh my Lord,” Archie breathed. 

 _The Madness_ was in as bad a state as Kris had ever seen her.  The foremast was a sail shorter than it had been when last he’d seen her and the sails were quickly patched, white cloth showing through the dark fabric.  The timber of the side of the ship was pitted and holed along the side that Kris could see and soot stained the lengths of wood above the gun ports.  _The Madness_ had a fearsome reputation, honestly deserved, and to see her brought so low was heart-sickening, but to know that Adam wasn’t standing at the helm or looking forward to the oncoming ship, prepared and willing to fight, it was enough to break his heart.

Kris looked back over his shoulder.  The crew of _The Dainty_ stood along the side, jaws dropped and eyes wide.  He tapped Archie on the arm and directed him to look.  Archie shook his head and turned back to _The Madness._

“Ahoy, _The Madness_ ,” Kris cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted.  “Permission to pull alongside.”

“Permission granted.”

Kris heard Brad’s voice but could not see him.  Kris gave the orders and a moment later, they were alongside and tying off the heavy ropes needed to keep the two ships together against the rising swell of the ocean.  As soon as the gang plank was pushed out, Kris was on it and across.

“Dear Lord, Brad,” Kris shook his head, going to the other man’s side as soon as he was on the deck.

“I regret that I’m not really dressed to receive guests,” Brad drawled, voice heavy and laced with pain.  “I’d stand but...” he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of his leg.

“No, no, that’s...” Kris trailed off.  “Good Lord, Brad, what happened?”

“Hell itself rained down fire and the Navy's own Devil did his damnedest to sink us,” Brad said, a hand going to rub at his eyes.

He sounded tired, and no wonder.  He was sitting propped up on one of Adam’s chairs.  His clothes were tattered and torn, soaked through with blood that was dried and hard.  His face was a mess of healing cuts and scabs.  Bandages were wrapped around his left leg from ankle to hip, his breeches slit up the seam and hanging loose.  Beads of perspiration were dotted around his hairline, which worried Kris.  The day wasn’t warm, barely above cool, but still Brad was sweating.  

Kris clicked his fingers, getting the attention of one of the men close by, “Please remove Mister Bell down to the ward room and have someone run for Maya.  Mister Bell is running a fever.”

“I’m fine,” Brad brushed away Kris’ concern, even as the men made to lift him, seat and all.

“Of course you are,” Kris rolled his eyes.  “Now, you may need to brace yourself.  I imagine there will be some jostling and the men do not need to hear your latest profane inventions.”

“How interesting,” Brad’s trademark sneer fixed upon his lip – which Kris was surprisingly happy to see – and his voice dripped pure venom.  “I was under the impression that you had a ship of your own and that said ship was _not The Madness_.”

“True,” Kris smirked, “but you didn’t believe that I sailed out just to see your bright and shining face.  I have, stored on my ship, enough lumber and sail to fix up this barge of yours.  But, of course, perhaps I’m overstepping.  I’m sure your men have it perfectly in hand.  There are only three holes in your side.  I’m sure that you need no aid.  How silly of me to assume!”

Brad visibly bit back a comment and then another, “We will, I suppose, accept your help.  But let the record show that we didn’t _ask_ for the help.  We had the situation in hand.”

“There is no record out here, Brad,” Kris sighed, “but if you insist, then I shall stop every ship this side of the Atlantic and make sure that they know that Bradley Bell did not ask for any aid.” 

The men put Brad down in the wardroom and retreated quickly, leaving Brad and Kris alone to fight their war of words.

Brad ran a hand through his hair, fingers curling into the unkempt mess and pulling.  Kris could see the pain flash across Brad’s face.  When he opened his eyes again, his anger was up, fresh and visceral, “Damn it all to hell, Allen, who do you think you are ordering me from my own deck in front of my men?"

"Your friend,” Kris threw back. “I've seen men pushing themselves far past their breaking point and it pains me to admit this Brad, but I see you teetering on the line, and while Maya is second to none in terms of her ability, even she cannot bring you back from the Lord's own hands."

Brad gripped the edges of his seat, starting to push himself up to his feet, "I'm far from knocking on the Good Lord's front door."

A single hand on his chest kept Brad in his chair.  It was far too easy and Kris kept his hand there for a moment longer than necessary so that Brad relaxed back down, huffing out his annoyance.

"That is your own opinion,” Kris took a step back, folding his arms, “Shall I tell you what I see when I look at you?"

Brad rolled his eyes, "Oh please, please share with me your brilliant wisdom."

"You may be hiding behind your sarcasm, but you sat there upon the deck still wearing your ripped and tattered clothes, bloodstains dried hard enough that the flies doesn't even know whether you are dead or still dying. The men are looking to you for strength and you have it by the sail full but at the same time, you are lost," Kris paused and took a breath. "We both know that Adam is Master of this ship and no twist of fate can change that. I don't say that to be cruel, Brad, truly I don't. We've sailed over some rough seas together and we've crossed each other's wakes several times, but through it all, there is friendship. You said so yourself the last time that we sat in this very room.  You have a fever, I can see that from here, and where there is fever, there is infection. I should not need to tell you how serious that is. I ask you, please, let Maya look at your leg and redress it. Rest and grow stronger."

"I'm strong enough to send you back to your own toy boat," Brad sneered, looking anywhere but at Kris.

Kris stepped forward and caught Brad’s sharp chin in his hand, "That is the best barb that you can muster? Lord, Brad, you're worse than I feared."

"Humph!” Brad tugged his chin free, his hand idly traced over the scabs on his cheek.  He let his hand fall and he sighed.  “So tell me then, am I to just lay my weary head down and just let you get on with things then? What of the ship? What of the crew?"

As if Brad had to ask.

Kris spoke honestly, hiding nothing, "I'll watch over them for you and see to the repair of the ship. I know her boards, every nail and every tack. I've fixed her more times than I can count. One more time makes no hardship. The choice is with you, as always, Brad, but remember, without someone to sail her, we may as well leave her here to rot or until the fish grow feet and take her away."

"I suppose that I could..." Brad gestured to his leg and situation, "Maya has been busy enough that I haven't wanted to bother her with so trifling an injury but I suppose that if she has a few minutes to spare that I could let her redress the wound."

"I've had the crew enquire as to her surgical schedule, and it appears that she has a slot of time with your name on it."

It was a polite lie, seeing as Brad had been right there when Kris had given the instructions to the men to fetch Maya, but if that was what it took to get Brad seen to and to get him back on the road to recovery then Kris would lie to the devil himself and do it with a smile on his face.

"This isn't over, Allen."

Brad’s words lacked fire and conviction and there was the ghost of a smile on the man’s face.  The knot of fear buried deep in Kris’ heart started to unravel.

"I never doubted that it was, Brad," Kris smiled, reaching out to drop a hand on the man’s shoulder. "But when next we fence, you'll at least be armed. I do so hate having to slow down my attacks for my opponent to catch up." Kris skipped backwards as Brad made to swipe a blow at him and opened the door, calling for Tommy who was very pointedly not listening at the doorway. "Ask Maya to step in when she arrives, would you please? Mister Bell will see her now."

"Aye, Lieutenant."

Maya swept into the room a moment later, her skirts darker and much stiffer than usual but Kris did not dare examine the matter more closely.

"So, Mister Allen has finally gotten some sense banged through that thick skull of yours, has he, and not a sign of a hammer around? Not a moment too soon by the smell of things. Damballa was a foolish God when he granted men two heads but enough blood to run neither without a woman's help. Orisha save us but sailors are the worst by far of any men that walk the earth."

"Must I have the lecture, I'm a sick man.”  Brad looked around Maya to Kris who paused in the doorway.  “On the verge of death to hear Kris tell the tale."

Kris held up his hands.  There were few men fool enough to step between Maya and her patients and Kris was hardly foolish.  Brad threw him a look of weak contempt before Maya stepped closer to block his view.

"And whose fault is that, Bradley Bell? Who sent me away when I first came to see you? Who sent Manish away when he knocked on your door?  Who would let me do nothing more than slap a salve on and bandage your leg? I should have slapped more than the salve I think."

Maya was in fine form, mad enough that Kris doubted that even Adam would escape her tongue lashing.  Worry and fear all mixed up together and finally with a target before her, Maya was a force to be reckoned with.

"That doesn't matter now," Brad waved away her words. "The important thing is that you're here now and so am I, and we can get on with whatever foul smelling muck you're going to spread on my leg."

Kris winced at the words.  Even injured and not at his full capacity, Brad should have known better.

Maya's eyebrows rose, her back straightened and her hands found her hips, "Foul smelling muck? You insult my skill and still expect me to heal you? You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you, child?" She dripped something dark into a glass of port before adding a thick gloopy compound in and stirring it with her finger. She handed it over and stood right there, defiant, until Brad took the glass. "Drink it all down and there best not be even the smallest drop left at the bottom of the glass."

Brad sniffed the glass dubiously, "And what word do I have that this isn't some elaborate scheme to poison me?"

"If I chose to poison you, it would be in your stomach before your brain caught up. Now, will you drink or must I hold your nose like some small petulant babe?"

Brad, finally coming to his senses, drank down the concoction.  From the look on his face, he immediately regretted the decision.

"Gah, it tastes foul."

"Of course it does," Maya rolled her eyes, "that is how you know it is the best medicine."

Satisfied that Maya had Brad firmly in hand and that his presence was no longer required – and if Maya was about to make a move to remove those bandages, then Kris was most definitely not required – Kris turned and headed for the deck.  There was a league of work to do and standing here watching a battle of wills was not getting them any closer to being seaworthy.

Kris stepped out from below decks, and made his way up the stairs to the mizzen deck. He could feel the eyes of the men on him.   No doubt there were betting pools already started amongst the men following Kris’ orders to remove Brad from the deck and Kris would not deny them a few pennies wager.  Archie stood stiffly beside the helm, Cook in his shadow and Kris nodded to him before taking a breath.

"Men, form up. Three groups," Kris called out. "Mister Bell has allowed me to step in while Maya looks to his wounds and see about getting this ship seaworthy again. Lord but they did a number on her, didn't they?"

The men murmured their agreement, their eyes catching on the wreckage.  Kris ran a hand absently over the rail in front of him, feeling the indentations and imperfections beneath his fingers. Captain Forester had stood here, his hands on this very spot. Adam had stood here, his hands splayed over the wood. Two captains as far apart as the poles, but both amazing men. There was a legacy in this spot, undeniable and urgent and one that Kris could not deny.  Taking strength from them, Adam especially, Kris continued.

"We brought with us enough supplies and lumber to patch The Madness, but we are short of time." Kris looked out over the crew, his expression as hard as he could make it.  "Let me be clear. We cannot spare a single moment. We'll be working through the night. If you can lift a hammer or hold a board, I need you to work until your eyes can stay open no longer and you cannot raise your arm. Then you'll rest and sleep, and start over again. Get in your teams and report to Mister Mills and Mister Cook. Any who are injured or who have been on watch this last watch, grab some food and some sleep. It'll be all too soon before you are woken up and assigned to duty. Know this men, once we are seaworthy, we sail for Charles Towne. We have a Captain to rescue and a Navy to embarrass."

Kris' words invigorated the men and Kris smiled at their roared cheers. A tossed cap landed inches from his foot and Kris bent to pick it up and toss it back to its owner. Cook was already down the stairs and calling orders, Cale beside him and directing the men. They worked seamlessly, finishing each other's orders and sending men to start unloading _The Dainty_. Kris watched for a moment longer before shucking his jacket and handing it to Samuel, who simply appeared at his back when needed.  The lad was definitely spending too much time with Tommy.

Below decks was chaotic, like the lowest levels of Hell itself. Usually dark and dim, unnaturally bright light seeped through the holes in the bulkheads. Tarpaulins and sails covered what they could, pitch colouring them dark brown and black but the spread was not even and glimpses of bright white peeked through.

"Pull down that sail cloth. Let's see the damage as it truly is," Kris ordered.

Two hours later, Kris' shirt was gone, hanging from a hook on the door and his arms were covered in pitch up to the elbows, but by God, the damage was patched and water tight. Samuel came with a pitcher of soup and a plate of fresh bread, tin cups hanging from his fingers. Kris let the men eat first, taking whatever drops of soup were left and the last slice of bread, carefully left for him.

"Sir, beggin' your pardon," one of the men, Jeffrey, caught his attention as Kris sipped at the luke warm soup. "You really mean to go after the Captain? Into the port in Carolina?"

"I do," Kris nodded. "But as a last resort. I think that possibly we might be able to steal the Captain out from beneath the noses of the ones who hold him, but it will be risky." He sighed, "It'll be risky no matter which course of action we take but know this, and know it well. They think _The Madness_ sunk. They think her rotting at the bottom of the ocean. What they have not considered, what they haven't even started to grasp is that _The Madness_ continues. Nothing can sink her; not eighteen pounders nor twenty pounders, not the worst storm or the harshest reefs. _The Madness_ sails on and always will. They think her sunk and we shall show them just how wrong they are. Think of the looks upon all those self-important officers' faces when the cry goes up and they catch the first glimpse of black sails and a familiar shadow on the water. They'll call it impossible and the devil's own work, and they'll be right," Kris smirked. "Surprise will be our mistress this time, and damned be anyone who stands in our way. I won't see the Captain strung up to swing on a rope. Not while there is breath in my body, men, and my word on that." Kris stood straight, though he barely realised it and his voice came strong and sure as it rose. "Any man who doesn't feel the same can find his own way back to shore because we will not have him on this ship. You hear me, men?"

"Aye, sir," the cry came and the men brandished their tin cups, not caring a jot as they slopped soup onto the timbers beneath their feet.

Kris' words would make their way through the ship, into the darkest corners and into every nook and cranny.

They were getting Adam back.

They were getting Adam back and damn the consequences.

With _The Madness_ behind him, and a good wind, not even God could stand in their way, and that was His own truth!

 

 

 

 

 

Kris was dog tired when he finally picked up his shirt and put down his hammer. He was exhausted, stiff and sore and desperately in need of somewhere to put his head down. He'd worked through three watches, taking breaks that were long enough only to slurp down coffee and relieve himself. Hand to God, he could have lain down on the deck and found it better than the softest mattresses. He had been tempted to return to The Dainty, to his own bed but, with the rock of the waves and the bounce of the gangplank, Kris wasn't sure he could make it across safely. He hadn't worked so hard since he was an ensign. Tommy caught his arm and led him down below decks to the ward room and sat him down in front of the table. He stood over him until Kris had eaten the too large meal that Tommy had prepared.

"I'll never..." Kris started, gesturing to the bowl in front of him.

Tommy didn't answer, didn't do anything more than raise an eyebrow. Kris ate a few spoonfuls and when he looked down again, the spoon was scraping at the pattern on the delft. Tommy steered him towards Adam's chamber and pushed him down onto the bed before kneeling down to pull Kris' boots from his feet. Kris' eyes were closed before the door clicked closed, sleep pulling him down into its warm embrace.

There was a weight across his chest as if careful arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. The smell of salt and sweat and leather and hemp filled his senses. Kris curled his fingers into the blankets and refused to open his eyes. Adam was all around him and yet a thousand miles away. It hurt. Down to his soul. His thumb played over the ring that Adam had given him, the one that sat on his finger, comfortably snug and never coming off for as long as Kris drew breath.  He brought it to his lips, his prayers carrying through the connection and he knew that they reached Adam.  Wherever Adam lay this moment, Kris was with him, just as Adam was here.  So close.  Almost tangible. 

It wasn’t Kris’ fingers that pulled his shirt up, but rather Adam’s long and delicate digits that ghosted across his stomach making it tense and shiver under the lightest of touches.  Adam’s fingers that tiptoed up through the short curled hairs that rose from his manhood up to his navel, tugging teasingly and making Kris’ temperature rise.  Kris turned his head to the side, burying his nose in Adam’s pillow and breathing deep.  His nipples were plucked and worked until his breeches could barely hold him in. 

Kris’ fingers curled into the blankets as the bindings holding his breeches were undone.  The blankets were rough against his overheated hardness and he could almost not bear even the lightest of touches.  He did not dare let his hand roam lower, but it did, gripping his prick tight enough to make him gasp.  The pleasure was divine, but still it was lacking.  Kris let the scent of Adam guide him and tug him down into oblivion.  His eyes were closed, shut tight against the morning light streaming through the window, against the swell of the waves outside, against the reality of the situation as he let sinful desire take hold.  But how could this be a sin when it was Adam’s own hands that Kris felt play across his skin? 

Kris could almost feel Adam behind him, strong and unyielding.  He could feel the soft breaths coming harsh against his neck.  He could hear the breathy moans coming faster as Kris – Adam – drove on towards his peak.  Kris curled his hand just so, as Adam did, his thumb playing across his very tip.  His back arched, snapping up as his climax overtook him. 

“Adam,” the word was a whispered benediction on his lips, repeated again and again even as tears came to his eyes.  “Goddamnit Adam, why?  How could you do this to me?  How could you leave me?  It’s supposed to be the other way.  I sail into danger and you sail behind, one short league back and ready to save me from my own stupidity.”  Kris fisted his clean hand and dug at his eyes, pressing hard enough to see auroras in his vision.  “I don’t know what to do.   Dearheart…  I don’t know if I can save you.  Please God.  Please Adam.  Help me.”

Kris curled on his side, a hundred mumbled variations of the same words lost to the pillow as his tears fell.  In here, in Adam’s chambers, he had never had to pretend to be someone that he was not.  Here, he could be Kris Allen and nothing else.  Adam gave him that freedom in return for the same. 

The tears dried, leaving tight tracks down his cheeks and the words died to nothing as Kris simply stared at the wall.  It took longer still to pull himself together, tuck himself back in and push up to his feet.  Despite his sleep, he was still tired, stretched thin but he could, and he would, bury every insecure feeling deep down inside.  Adam would laugh when he told him, and kiss him on the forehead, and tell him that he did good to keep it together.  He’d listen and nod and give praise where it was due, but until then, the words did not need to be said.  Not again.

Kris washed his face and hands, and pulled his jacket on, straightening the cuffs until they sat perfectly and stepped through the doors and out into the wardroom to face another day of repairs and another day of hard work.

 


	9. A Suitably Devious Plan

 

[ _**** _ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

  
_**1 st March 1711** _   
_**Aboard The Dainty, 35 Leagues off the coast of Charles Towne** _

 

The wind caught the sails and they cracked like thunder.  _The Madness_ was back out of sight across the horizon, their course set so that they arrived at a small cove just north of Charles Towne slightly before Kris and the British ships made the port, and there they would stay until Kris gave the signal.  Some friends would join them, reconvening on their position and preparing to attack an Admiralty stronghold.  Brad thought the plan suicide but with a little luck and a lot of skill, they would be successful - or so Kris hoped.

Kris stood at the bowsprit and watched as the British First Rates came into view.  He raised his spyglass to his eye and focused in on the ships.  They were battered, sure enough, but sailing strong.  Their sails were a patched mess, mended with whatever lengths of sailcloth they could find by the looks of things.  Several of the smaller accompanying vessels were limping along slowly, sails at half and barely catching the wind.  Kris smiled, cold and vicious.

"Lieutenant Archuleta," Kris called out without turning to look behind him, "Call the men to order.  Mister Cook, run up the flags and make sure the standard pinions are flying.  I don't want to face their guns just yet."

The orders were acknowledged but still Kris did not look away from the First Rates.  The bell clanged under Archie's heavy hand calling the men to order and within a minute, men were pouring up from below decks and forming into lines to wait for orders.

Kris turned finally and faced his men, looking out over the familiar faces.  There were men that he'd served with for a dozen years and more, and newer ones who he had taken under his wing after _The Madness_ had been forced to make for the breakwater in New Providence, but they were all his and they'd stand with him through this insanity.  He could not have asked for a better crew than these men here before him.

"What we do this day is a risk," Kris started, "but it's one that we do with the hope that we can prevent a pitched battle on the streets of Charles Towne.  Captain Lambert is aboard one of those vessels and by God, if there is a way that we can free him and escape, then we will take it; but know that the men on those vessels are loyal to none but the Admiralty and the Crown.  They will ask you questions and try to sneak answers from you.  Think carefully before you speak, I ask you.  Take no rum with them and do not let your guard down." Kris paused and let his words sink in before speaking again, "Look to your left and to your right.  The men who stand shoulder to shoulder with you now are your friends, your brothers.  They would stand at your back as you stand at theirs.  I know that you would give your lives for each other.  You are kin in a way that they do not understand.  They are starch and duty and rules, and little else.  We are blood and hellfire and damned defiance."  Kris' voice rose above the cries of agreement until he was shouting, one fist raised to the heavens, "Those devils took something of ours and by God and his angels, we will get it back!"

The men set about their duties with a will, readying the materials they had left after _The Madness'_ repairs and putting them to order.  A simple vessel like _The Dainty_ could carry little but there was more than enough sail cloth left below decks to swap out the battered sails of the worst patched ships and darn the others and enough lumber to patch over their cracks. 

Archie came to stand beside Kris at the bowsprit.  Kris offered him the spyglass and he looked at the ships but it was a perfunctory glance, not really taking in anything barring their numbers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a low voice.

Kris shook his head, "Tense.  My spine is locked tight with the anticipation but we will succeed, I know that deep in my heart."

"And if we don't?"

Kris shrugged, "If we don't, or if it's unsafe to make the attempt, then we continue on to Charles Towne and free him there."

"And if that fails?" Archie persisted.

"It will not," Kris snapped, turning to look at Archie.

"But if it does..."

"I cannot fail," Kris started but the words trailed off.  "I will not fail.  I will not break my vow."

Archie reached out, his hand coming to rest on Kris' arm, "I am not doom saying the venture, Kris, I'm not but I want you to see this through something other than the mist of optimism that's clouding your horizon.  Before us, there is a cadre of twelve ships, all armed and bound to bring the Captain to 'justice'.  If we manage to find in which hold he is being kept and sneak him back to _The Dainty_ , they will give chase, sure as anything.  Are we fast enough to outrun twelve ships?  And what if we don't find him before we make Charles Towne and before he is carted off to the fort behind enough guards that we will need an army just to breach the walls on the way in?"

"I know what you are saying Archie," Kris kept his voice low, his eyes flicking between Archie and the men who worked not five feet away, "I have thought of nothing else since the news came to me.  I have turned over every possibility in my mind.  I have envisaged everything that can possibly go wrong and those thoughts have haunted my dreams but I cannot and I will not give into thoughts like that.  Fate put us together, Adam and I, and I have to believe that She wills us on.  She is not so fickle as to throw us together for a few chance encounters and then rip us apart for her own amusement.  There may not be a happy ending at the finale of our tale but our story is far from over.  I know that deep in my soul, Archie, and I must keep my belief in that strong.  I pray for Adam nightly, for his safety, and for him to just acquiesce to their sovereignty while he is with them.  He's a proud man, and I fear that his pride is more dangerous where he is than anything else."

Kris shakes his head, "I'm not as idealistic as you think me, Archie, I promise you that, but while Adam still draws air, I will try to free him.  I can do no less."  Kris' eyes found Cook in the mess of men, directing their movements and he bade Archie to watch his lover.  "Tell me, and tell me honestly, that if it was Cook suffering under the tender mercies of the Admiralty and their minions that you would not move Heaven and Earth to see him free."

Archie said nothing to that, but Kris could see the answer clear as if he said the words in the slump of his shoulders and the hang of his head.

"It's no different for me, Archie," Kris patted the other man on the back.  "I can no more leave Adam to those men and their harsh brand of justice than you could leave Cook.  Adam gave me leave to be who I truly am.  I am a man who will fight the Heavenly Host to free my love.  If I can do that by subterfuge or by guile, then all the better, but if it takes a cannon and a sword, then I won't hesitate."  Kris paused, taking a breath, "I gave you a choice before we left port, but if you want to wash your hands of this action, I can manufacture reason enough to keep you below but speak now.  I love you, you are my dearest friend, but..."

Archie held up his hands, "I'm with you, Kris, by your side in all endeavours.  I suppose I just needed to know that we weren't sailing into trouble with nought but a middling wind and a half a plan."

Kris smiled at that, "Mister Archuleta, I'm surprised at you.  You must know by now that an officer of the Queen's Navy does not need a plan.  We have the force of our convictions and God on our side.  We have no need of these paltry things called plans.  By Queen Anne's petticoats, who could stand against us!"

Archie's eyes widened, mouth opening to say something and snapping closed again as Kris clapped him on the back and went to see about the men.

The First Rates were suspicious as they pulled alongside, their gun ports open and the guns primed.  Kris stood steady in his dress uniform, neat as a shiny new button, with Archie at his side.  Everything was in place, the men lined up in neat little rows beside piles of lumber, visibly loaded for the purpose that Kris was meaning them to carry out.

"Ahoy _The Retribution_ ," Kris called out, "This is Lieutenant Kristopher Allen of Her Majesty's Ship, _The Dainty_.  Requesting permission to come alongside and board?"

A jaundiced looking officer peered at them over the edge of the railing and beckoned them closer, "Permission to come alongside granted."

Kris gave the order to the helmsman and they trimmed the sails to slow themselves down to the appropriate speed, letting the sea anchor drag them to a stop.  Marines, bright and red, lined the railing, with muskets loaded and pointed out at them.  The officer stood to attention, saluting, as a man who Kris took to be the ship’s captain stepped up to peer out at them.  Cook whistled a two tone note and Kris' crew snapped to attention in a single move that did Kris proud.

"What's your purpose, boy?" the captain called out.

"The Admiralty in Charles Towne sent us out to offer help with repairs, sir," Kris called back.  "As soon as he heard the news, Admiral Gielham dispatched us to aid you.  We are laden with lumber, pitch, sailcloth and other supplies, and my men are most proficient in such matters.  I have a trained carpenter and his mates ready and willing to put your ships to rights so that you can make an entrance to Charles Towne as befits your achievement, and congratulations on that achievement, Captain.  _The Madness_ and her ilk have caused the colonies nothing but hardship.  The scum will think twice now that their flagship sits at the bottom of the ocean."

Kris was laying it on a little thick, and he knew it, but he just prayed that it came off as the boundless enthusiasm of a young and slightly naive officer eager to impress a man such as Admiral Byng who had the ear of the First Lord of the Admiralty and indeed that of the Queen herself most likely.  A little flattery went a long way towards their goal.

"Just like Gielham," the Captain's words carried across and Kris said nothing.  "Alright, let’s get your ship tethered.  we'll see you in the ward room presently, Lieutenant, and we can plan for the repairs."

The Captain turned to the officer beside him and said something.  Kris caught the 'yessir' but nothing else. 

"Make ready to board," Kris called out.  "Mister Archuleta, man the ship and keep the men ready to deploy as needed.  Mister Cook, prepare your mates for dispatch with all appropriate tools and supplies."

"Aye, sir," the sharp reply came. 

It was five minutes and more before Kris climbed up the rope ladder and swung himself over the railing.  He saluted the officer of the watch and was led down to the wardroom where a confederation of captains awaited him.  Twelve men, thirteen once he stepped in, and never was Kris more aware that he was the Judas in their midst, the snake in the bosom of the Navy.

"Ah, there you are, Lieutenant," Admiral Byng's voice came from the back of the room where he was bent over a chart with a few of the other captains.

"Sir," Kris came to attention, saluting.

"Relax lad, you're with friends here and I don't stand on ceremony...  Until I do, that is," he gave a loud bellowing laugh.

The captains around him laughed but it wasn't a genuine laugh, more a nervous tittering that set Kris on edge.

"Come closer, lad." He waved an arm at Kris, almost knocking the glass out of one of the other captain's hands, "You know the waters here about, don't you?"

"Yes, sir.  Sailed them since before I was an ensign," Kris nodded.  "My father was a Captain before he was forced to retire out.  An injury, unfortunately."

"I see.  We ran into a bit of trouble a dozen leagues back, got caught on a damned spit, I'd swear, but problem was that it wasn't shown on any map the Admiralty has," Byng stabbed a finger at the chart.

Kris looked down at the map and nodded, "Just as you rounded the reef, sir?  Yes, that's a problem this time of year.  It's tidal, we think.  Most of the ships bound out of Charles Towne don't have much trouble with it, but a ship of your size.  Well, sir, I'm not surprised.  If you'd like, sir, I can have a look at your course and see if there are any other such areas.  I mean, if you pardon my presumption that is?"

"Presume away, lad," Byng smiled wide and insincere.  "Last thing I need is some damned sandbar ripping the hull out from 'neath me."

Kris stepped a little closer, excusing himself as he edged past a captain.  His looked at the course markings and bit his lower lip.  The course they were on was close enough to where _The Madness_ would be sailing, dangerously close in places. 

"Allen you said your name was," one of the captains spoke up, his voice soft but Kris could hear the steel behind it.  "There was a report of a Lieutenant by the name of Allen.  Weren't you up for court-martial recently?"

Kris' hand paused, hovering just over the map, "Aye, sir.  I was, but found not guilty.  The Admiral gave me command of _The Dainty_ shortly afterwards."

" _The Dainty_ , how... quaint," he sneered.

Kris straightened, hackles rising, "She's a small vessel, sure enough, sir, but she's in the water constantly, bringing supplies between Charles Towne and Boston.  This is her first deep sea voyage, I must admit, but she's holding up well.  Took the weather well and she's light enough to skip over any sand or reef in her path."

Kris did _not_ like that captain.  It wasn't done to make fun of a man's ship and while Kris may be playing to the Admiral's side, he wasn't going to take words against his ship lightly.

"By the by, Captain, your course goes dangerously close to two other such tidal occurrences," Kris turned to face the captain, "unless you throw off a significant amount of ballast and get yourselves clear of the water by at least nine feet more than you are now, you'll run aground of them, as will the other First Rates with you.  It'll be mid-Summer by the time the tide shifts enough to get your free."

Lies, pure fabricated lies, but damn and blast, these men were getting on his last frayed nerve.  They'd never know the difference and it would let _The Madness_ safely reach their sheltered inlet in plenty time to set up.

"By Jove, the lad's got a backbone," one of the other captains laughed, "Hayes, you owe me a shilling and I won't take another promissory note from you."

"Damn and blast you, Hastings," the first captain, Hayes, cursed but pulled out the shilling and tossed it over to Hastings.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant," Hastings laughed as he tucked the shilling away.  "Can I offer you a glass of port?"

Kris took the offered port and sipped lightly at it as he watched the confederation of captains mill around the ward room, examining the charts and checking the course.  There seemed to be quite a mix of men here, from the brash and bellowing Admiral to a quiet and shy Lieutenant who was acting up to Captain following the 'tragic' death of the ship’s assigned captain to enemy fire.  Strike another notch on the mast of _The Madness_.

The lieutenant, Lieutenant Ayres, put Kris rather in mind of Archie, it had to be said.  Around him hung the heavy air of a wealth of naval tradition, which sat heavily on the shoulders of a man not really destined to be at the helm of a ship, but who did his best nonetheless.  Kris manoeuvred his way across to the lieutenant, whom he guessed to be of an age with him, and saluted him with the glass of port. 

"I'm so very glad to be here," Kris kept his words a bare whisper, loud enough to carry to Ayres' ears but no further, "I mean, Charles Towne is abuzz with the news and I must admit that I lost the run of myself a little at hearing it.  It's true, please tell me it is true, that you have caught the blackguard that captured _The Hawk_?"

Ayres looked a little nervous, his eyes darting to the Commander and back to Kris.  Kris prayed that his face showed earnest emotion and nothing else.

"Aye, it's true.  _The Hawk_ was lost though," Ayres finally replied.

Kris nodded gravely, his clenched fist striking his bosom lightly as he closed his eyes, "A loss.  I had..." Kris' voice broke by a manufactured fraction, "I had hoped that we would be able to recover her and return her to glory, but," he sighed, "best she rest at the bottom of the sea than allow those pirates one moment longer to use her for their nefarious purposes."

"That was our thinking," the lieutenant nodded.

"A bold move," Kris acknowledged, "The Admiral, Admiral Gielham, will not thank you for it, I fear, but bringing the pirate, Lambert, to Charles Towne for British justice should calm him some.  There are several there who have known his sails."

Ayres turned to face Kris a little more fully, his eyes narrowing a fraction, "From how I hear of it, you've crossed his path a time or two."

"I have," Kris confirmed, shaking his head.  "He's left more than one mark upon me.  There are none who can match my feelings for that man, under heaven, I swear that."

Ayres' eyes flicked across Kris' face, measuring and calculated but whatever he found there must have satisfied him because he continued on, "You'll be there for his trial?"

"If duty permits.  If I am still berthed in Charles Towne and it is in my power to be, I shall be there.   Front row centre."

"I shall save you a seat, then," Ayres smiled.

Kris inclined his head and faded back to silence, letting the conversations around him drift by in the hopes of catching a vital snippet of information.  There was nothing, and Ayres was called away before Kris could press a little more.  Captains approached to speak about what needs their ships had and how soon he could get them fixed and ready to sail for Charles Towne.  Kris spoke to each in turn, careful to catch every last man, arranging for one of his men to do an inspection of their ship and liaise with their carpenters and mates.  A man aboard each ship should hopefully find out the lay of the land and lead them to where Adam was being held.

Kris made his way back to _The Dainty_ just as the last light of the day hovered on the horizon and called Archie, Cook, Cale and the rest of the mates together.  He leaned back against the table in his own ward room. 

"The captains are keeping tight lipped about their prisoner," Kris sighed, "and as such, I've not been able to ferret out the information that I had hoped for, _but_ , I have negotiated with each captain that a mate of ours goes aboard each ship, with his men, and walks the decks, above and below, to assess the damage and see how we can help.  I want each of you to take a team of men and do your duty.  Keep your eyes open and your ears uncovered.  When you find something, make your way back here as soon as you can and tell either myself or Mister Archuleta.  One of us will be here at all times."  Kris took a breath, "I trust each man who stands here in this room.  Be confident in that.  Do nothing to endanger yourself or your men.  You know your duty and you know your roles in this.  You do not need a lecture on how to tap home a nail from me."  Kris shook his head, "Assemble your teams and I shall see about getting you aboard before dusk turns to night."

The mates left, with a quick nod to Kris.  The last one out closed the door behind him leaving Kris standing there with Archie, Cook and Cale.  Kris breathed out, long and drawn out and walked around the table to a small closed cabinet.  He pulled out four glasses and a bottle of claret, one from Adam's private stock.  He carefully poured four large measures and handed them out.

Kris played with the glass, his fingers tracing over the cut pattern but not drinking, "There's a lieutenant aboard one of the ships, _The Dauntless_ , who is acting up to Captain - a field promotion that I'd wager Admiral Byng intends to confirm when they reach the port - who is a little less cagey than the other captains.  I intend to work him to see if I can find the information."

"That sits comfortably with you?" Cale asked.  "If they find that he's the one who spoke..."

"I'll admit that if there were any way to do it, that I'd rather take that route, but we have only a handful of days before we are back in Charles Towne and if we do not free Adam before then..." Kris trailed off.

"I can do it," Archie spoke up.  "I mean, I'm hardly the most cunning chap by what's known of me.  I can use my connections to my uncle.  Tell him that I can help him confirm his promotion, maybe convince him that if he gives me a berth, that I'd put in a good word."

"I'm not sure that..." Kris started.

"It would work," Archie persisted.  "And it would be a damned sight better than idly walking the decks here and waiting for word that may or not come.  Let me help this way, Kris."

Kris looked to Cook first and then to Cale, "Alright, but do not oversell your power to speed the confirmation along.  Your uncle is a notoriously hard man to influence."

Archie nodded.

"Cale, stay a moment, if you would.  I need to speak to you on another matter," Kris turned his back on the room and drained his claret in a single, long swallow.

The door clicked closed and Kris felt Cale's hand on his shoulder.  Kris placed his on top of it. His stomach was filled to the brim with molten lead that burned straight through him, leaving a sourness in his mouth that not even the fine claret could cover.  Tricking a lieutenant, unwitting and trusting though he was, was nothing to what he was about to ask Cale to set in motion, and Kris felt ashamed to even ask, but for Adam, he had to.

His fingers brushed over the band of the ring that Adam gave him, taking a small measure of comfort from the warm gold of the ring.  He closed his eyes and took measured breath after measured breath, willing himself to keep calm, to draw from Adam's strength and the ruthlessness that had made, and kept him, the most feared pirate on this sea or any other.

" _The Dainty_ is outmatched and outclassed by each and every ship in this small fleet," Kris started, turning to look at Cale.  "I will need you to make charges, multiple charges, and ensure that they are distributed across the ships of this fleet.  If, _when_ , we find Adam, our men will light the fuses and blow them out of the water."

Cale looked grim, but he nodded, "The men I pick..."

"The men you pick will most likely not have time to return to _The Dainty_ before we make our escape."  Kris filled in the end of the sentence.  "Volunteers only, Cale, and I will personally see that their widows have an easy life and are well looked after.  Tell them that they have my word on that.  I'll see none of their families turned out or destitute.  My word and Adam's.  Tell them that."

Cale said nothing for the longest moment and Kris feared that he would refuse the request.  Though he could, Kris would not order Cale to do something such as this if it were against his morals and against his heart.

"Are you sure?" Cale asked.

Kris nodded, "I wish there was another choice but I do not see another way.  Not if we are to guarantee our safety and our escape.  If there were one, I would take it in a heartbeat, my hand to God, Cale, but this is the only way."

"Then," Cale said, "I'd best prepare our packages."

Cale inclined his head and stepped back.

"Cale?" Kris called out to him before he found the door, "Thank you."

"Kris," Cale stopped, "you're my friend, truly, and if you think that this is the only way that we can do this, if you've measured the consequences and this is the only solution, then I will do what is needed."

As soon as the door closed behind Cale, Kris poured himself another glass of claret.  This one lasted no longer than the last, burning his throat on the way down and pooling in his stomach and turning it sour.  Another glass and Kris ran for the window at the back of the ward room, throwing it open just in time to empty his stomach into the wake water, and the night got no better after that.

 

 



 

Morning found him when Tommy let it in, like some overeager puppy engaged in a one-sided affection with his leg: unwanted, unwelcome and downright unsanitary.  Tommy, however, was having none of Kris’ unwanted attitude and drew him from his bed against all protestations Kris could make to dump him unceremoniously into a tub of barely lukewarm water. 

To say that Tommy was ruthless, well, that was an understatement, and beyond that, his fingers might well have been made of ivory or steel.  Kris had never been so thoroughly scrubbed, nor treated with quite the same amount of mocking care.  Tommy, it appeared, did not approve of Kris’ entertainment the previous evening, and gave no quarter in his ministrations.  Kris, it had to be said, was definitely coming to regret his actions and most especially their consequences.

Breakfast ordinarily was quite the chatty affair, with Tommy quietly explaining everything that he was doing so that Samuel could learn, but this morning, Kris was not treated to shushed whispers but rather rattling pots, pans and the loudest of voices.  Tommy was a far cry from subtle and Kris guessed that that was entirely his point.  Sighing, Kris cut into his bread and stacked as many rashers of bacon atop it as the slice could hold.  His hand shook outrageously, but he managed to eat the makeshift sandwich before it toppled.  Archie burst through the door a scant moment later, his usual exuberant self and Kris winced.

"Ah hah!" Archie jabbed a finger into the air, "We have him, Kris.  The Lord God strike me down if we have not done it.  We know where they are holding Captain Lambert.  The men were not able to approach him as yet, but repairs are scheduled to happen just down the hallway from where they are holding him and we should be able to see him.  Maybe later today, although it may be best to wait until this evening, as dusk turns to night.  That's when adventures like these take place, isn't it?  Did you hear me, Kris, we know where he is!"

Kris had barely followed Archie's fast paced speech, blinking along as his brain pushed through the hangover fog to grasp at the last sentence.  Kris pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself against the table.

"Are you sure, Archie?  Are the men sure?"

Archie nodded, "Aye, one of their fellows aboard ship mentioned it, and I pressed Ayres to confirm it. He's in our grasp now.  We can almost taste him..." Archie cut off, blushing.  "I mean, that is to say that I would never dare presume to...  Oh Lord Kris, I'm sorry.  That came out a little... Well, wrong, I suppose."

"I took your sentiment," Kris barely caught himself before he nodded.

"Are you alright?" Archie asked, moving closer to Kris and feeling his forehead.  "You're flushed and warm.  Maybe Tommy could blend one of Maya's teas for you."

Tommy humphed behind Archie, causing him to turn and look as Tommy collected two empty claret bottles and tucked a half-empty third back into its cabinet.

"I see," Archie sighed.  "We're so close, Kris.  Why, why did you resort to the bottle last night?"

Kris pushed away from Archie, to the window at the back of the room and threw open the latch.  The salt air was bracing, chilled from the morning breeze and fresh.  Kris did not answer Archie's question, instead deflected it.

"Who is heading the repair crew on the ship where they are holding Adam?  And which Captain is it that we must deal with?" Kris asked.

Archie was a good man, with a moral streak a league wide.  Kris could not lay what he planned on the shoulders of his friend.  Archie was innocent in the ways of war.  He'd raised a sword, sure, and fought well against his opponents but what Kris was planning was something else.  Kris had seen Captain Forester take the very same action against the Dutch before and the decision had laid him low for the best of a month.  To do the same to men who believed you to be on their side, to those who thought you brothers in arms, it was a horrendous thought and one that Kris could not share with Archie, no matter how far he had come in the ten months – had it only been ten months? - that he'd known him.  He was no longer the naive midshipman who signed up to escape the endless drudgery of the Admiralty, lost in his uncle's larger, darker shadow, but he was also not the hardened officer that Kris was, and Kris would keep it that way for another while at least.

Archie frowned, but thankfully left the subject drift by, "No Captain, at all.  It's Lieutenant Ayres' ship, _The Dauntless_.  We've found a fast friendship, or so he thinks.  Gave me quite the unvarnished opinion on his seniors while I spun him carefully woven tales of the Admiralty in Charles Towne.  He's a decent sort. I feel a little guilty that we must deceive him, but for the greater good, no?"

For the greater good...  And there was the sentence that would tap the last nail down into Kris' naval coffin.

"I told him that you would be inspecting the men personally," Archie continued on, "making sure that they work well and that all repairs are to the highest quality.  I thought that while you were there, we might sneak a look in at the Captain and see for ourselves that he is well and cared for before we make our move."

"A good thought," Kris agreed, nodding once.  "Signal him that I'll be there presently.  You'll come with me and keep the Lieutenant occupied while I carry out the inspection?"

"Of course," Archie smiled.  "He's challenged me to a game of chess, turns out he plays quite well.  Not a match, of course, but it'll be a good distraction. Cale is heading the crew on that ship, so he'll have your back while you are over there."

Kris saw Tommy carry in a clean and starched uniform, and excused himself to redress.  More and more these days, the uniform seemed like a lie in fabric form, but Kris pulled it on, straightening the collars and cuffs until they looked as good as a new-pressed penny.  Archie was waiting on deck, the crew having pulled the rowboat out and readying it to cross to _The Dauntless_.  Kris climbed down, taking his seat at the bow, with Archie opposite him but back a fraction.  They were welcomed aboard by the officer of the watch.  Archie bade the man lead him to Ayres while Kris collared one of the crew to take him down to see the repair crew.

The heavy smell of pitch hit Kris as soon as he ducked below decks.  Reaching out, he put a hand on the heavy timbers of the bulkhead, feeling the bones of the ship for a second.  She was a beauty, still fresh from the builders' yard.  The timbers were strong and square, not yet worn on the edges, but that would change in short enough order. 

Carefully shielded lanterns hung from the ceiling and beyond their pools of light, Kris could see his men working away.  Kris walked down the corridor, eyes open and watching the ship's men go about their duties.  Cale looked up as Kris approached, stepping back to let one of the men take over shouldering the beam that he was supporting.

"Mister Archuleta found you," Cale whispered.

"He did," Kris nodded.  "Where is he being kept?"

"Down and to the left.  There's a guard there, but just the one."

Kris started walking down the corridor as Cale kept up a chatter about repair work and schedules.  Kris filtered it out.  His feet stuttered as he saw the guard, armed with a sword and a brace of pistols.

Cale's hand fell on his back, "Now you'll see here, sir, this is the section that I'm worried about."

Kris looked at the timbers beside them, taking the moment to draw in a whole breath and calm himself.

"I don't trust the oak to hold here," Cale patted the timber. 

Kris tracked over the wood.  It was perfectly fine, solid and thick, but Kris trusted Cale to know what he was doing so he played along. 

"I see what you mean.  Downright dangerous.  Could sink the whole ship, and you say that it wasn't noticed by their carpenter?"

"Damned shame, sir, but their carpenter and his mates were sent to replace those lost aboard _The Retribution_ ," Cale barely hid his smirk.  "Damned lucky that we came along this way to inspect.  It's my expert opinion that this work is more pressing than that we're doing up the corridor."

"Aye," Kris nodded.  He turned and clicked his fingers at the guard, "You there, get down the corridor and tell the men that I need half of them here immediately."

"But Lieutenant, sir, I can't leave my post," the man protested.

Kris felt a little sorry for him but not enough to take sympathy, "Are you refusing my order, man?  By God, I will see you flogged for this, but why give the pleasure to the Master at Arms?  Mister Mills, take my coat and I'll do the job myself!"  Kris started to strip off his jacket, pushing up his sleeves.

"Sir, I'm sure that if the lad knew the danger facing the ship..." Cale raised his voice.

Kris stilled, sneering as he looked at the lad, "How long have you been aboard?"

"Since Plymouth, sir.  It's my first time at sea.  Please, sir, I didn't mean to..." the lad was a hairsbreath away from falling to his knees by Kris' reckoning. 

"Didn't mean to almost sink the ship, man," Kris curled his lip.

He felt like a heel, like the biggest bastard there was, but they needed the lad to leave and give them a moment alone with Adam and for that Kris would lie to God himself and all his hosts of angels.

"Put your hand here, lad," Kris took the lads hand in his and slammed it into the solid oak, "D'ya feel that, beneath your fingers.  How it felt as if it was giving way?"

Honestly, Kris doubted that the lad could feel anything but pins and needles in his hand, but the lad nodded. 

"Tell me, boy, can you swim?" Kris asked.

The lad shook his head.

"Well then, best run off down the corridor and carry the message to my men then, hadn't you? My man here will keep your post until you return," Kris promised, but he doubted the lad heard given the speed that he set off down the corridor.

"Scared as he is, I doubt we'll have more than a minute," Cale whispered.  "Make it count."

Kris stepped up to the bars of the cage and looked in. The cell was dark as midnight, with no light sneaking in at all.  He thought that he heard a movement at the rear of the cage but couldn't be sure until Adam stepped - hobbled - into what little light came from the corridor.

"Adam?  Adam, love, are you injured?" Kris struggled to keep his voice hushed.

Adam was filthy, his hair matted and flat with grease and was that blood?  The side of his face was a mess of bruises, one eye sealed closed with congealed blood.  His clothes were gone aside from his breeches, once white and now dark brown-black.  But still he was a beautiful sight to Kris' eyes.

"Krisss?" Adam hissed out the word, and Kris saw his lips crack, fresh blood pooling in the cuts straight away.  "Kris, no.  You shouldn't be here."

"And still I am," Kris threaded his fingers through the bars and Adam reached out, the manacles obviously paining him, but still he reached out and touched Kris' fingers. “I have a plan.”  Kris closed his eyes as the first tear fell, "I didn't know if I'd see you again.  When I heard, all I could think about was finding you, saving you."

"There's no saving me from this," Adam shook his head. "They're gone, Kris.  My ship, my crew, everything.  Everything but you.  I'm a harbinger, love, the devil himself has touched me and the only luck I have left is bad.  Get yourself away from me while you still can."

Kris squeezed Adam's fingers, "More fool me, I came to save the courageous and strong Captain Lambert, scourge of the sea, and Master of _The Madness_.  Little did I know that all I'd find here was his snivelling shadow, but if that's all that's here, then I shall have to make do."

"Kris, what?" Adam was frowning now, or at least Kris thought he was.  It was hard to tell through the bruises and the dirt.

"Your ship is fine.  She's waiting for us once we free you from this ship.  You lost some crew, true enough, but she sails better than she's done in years.  Brad's at the helm, cursing every British ship he can name, and making up a few that have never been," Kris reached for Adam as he stumbled backwards, reeling from the news. "Now, have you done with your bout of self-loathing, or must I listen to another list of things that have gone wrong?  What's next?  Your mother didn't love you enough when you were a child or your father was overly harsh to you and didn't buy you some mythical unicorn when you were a babe?"

"She sails?  _The Madness_ was not sunk?" Adam blinked, searching Kris' face.

Cale tapped him on the back, a warning.

"Aye, she's fine, which is more than I can say for you.  Somewhere along the way, it looks as if they have knocked the wits from you," Kris shook his head.  "I have a plan."

"Then I am already saved," Adam laughed, but the laugh turned into a cough.

Kris watched him, worried.

"It's nothing serious, just a lack of blankets," Adam smiled.  "I dreamed of you.  Every night."

"And I of you," Kris rubbed a finger against Adam's. "If these bars were not between us..."

"That is a thought that will keep me warm until you come," Adam coughed again.   "They move me tonight, I think.  Not sure of the time.  They don't let me see the sun in here, but it will be between now and whenever they push a bowl of slop through the bars."

"Move you?" Kris started, stiffening.

That had not factored into his plans.  A daylight jailbreak would be possible, maybe, but it complicated matters.  There were more men on deck, and more men ready to draw arms.  They would be open targets for a lot longer than Kris was comfortable for.  Cale tapped his back again, harder this time.  Kris looked up to see a company of Marines, bright and red and armed, walking down the corridor towards him.

"I'll work it out, love," Kris said.  "Remember, no matter what happens, that I'm here for you and I _will_ save you.  And for what I am about to say, I am truly sorry."

Adam frowned again, the bridge of his nose wrinkling up as Kris drew in a breath and pulled back his hand.

"Caged like a dog, that's too good for the likes of you.  We should not be dragging you back to port to stand trial, pirates should swing from the yardarm like the mangy curs they are," each word hurt Kris to say it, but by the smirks on the faces of the men coming towards him they were buying the vitriol that he spewed.  "A mercy killing is what it should be, not some spectacle that will draw good folks from honest work so that someone can witness whatever lies you utter for your last words."

Adam nodded, and drew back to the shadows.  The forgiveness visible in his eyes was the only thing that stopped Kris from running to find some dark corner.  Forgiveness and understanding.  Kris leaned in close to the bars and spat on the floor, well away from where Adam stood.

Daring, Kris paused a moment and with his voice a bare whisper meant only for Adam, Kris looked Adam in the eye, "I love you.  I'll save you."

Then Kris turned on his heel and stepped away.  The men stood to the side as Kris passed.  He had a need for air and the sea breeze and his cabin.  His words, the ones that he'd shouted at Adam, swam around his head accusing him even though he knew that every word of it had been a lie.  He had no space however, nor chance for it, when he stepped out onto the deck for right before him stood Ayres and at his side Archie.

"How go the repairs?" Ayres asked.

"We found another spot of trouble," Kris answered blandly.

Ayres smiled, "So I heard.  Damn near scared one of my men to death.  Came running up here claiming that the ship was about to sink."

Kris shrugged, "The man's barely a sailor, doesn't seem to me to have the right temperament.  You'd best keep an eye on the likes of him.  A panic amongst the men is the last thing that you need."

"I trust your men can deal with the problem," Ayres gestured to Kris to step away from the hatchway.

As soon as Kris did, he saw the company of Marines pushing Adam forward, heavy chains clinking against each others.  Kris did not look away from Ayres until the men were past.

"They're working on it next," Kris answered, sneaking a look over at Adam.

In the dark, he'd missed the marks covering Adam's back.  Wide marks where the skin was split.  Whipping marks.  Adam limped and Kris could see the angry red welts left by the too-tight manacles as they tore into his skin.

"To help you, we decided to move the prisoner a little early," Ayres smiled, "so that we can give your men full access to the ship as they need it.  Should hopefully mean that they're finished a little earlier."

"How kind of you," Kris inclined his head.

Well...  Balls!

The Marines vanished between the ships in their own rowboat, muskets pointed out at all angles as some sailors rowed hard, and Adam sailed out of sight.  Kris was not granted the luxury of watching because Ayres was at his elbow and Kris could not afford to advertise his interest in Adam.  Kris hoped that his men would be able to ferret out the information quickly so that they could get on with the rescue and leave these ships behind them, but the task was made infinitely more difficult with this not so little complication.

"The transcripts from your court-martial highlight to the Admiral that Lambert was adept in peppering crews with his own men and turning those loyal against their word," Ayres spoke and Kris turned to look the acting captain in the eye.  "Admiral Byng takes the precaution of moving the bastard every day or two just in case he can use his clever words to overcome his guards' moral judgment."

"A clever plan," Kris forced a smile, "The Admiral is taking no chances."

"Not with one such as this," Ayres clapped Kris on the back and it took every ounce of will that Kris had not to slap the hand away and with it, it's owner.  "And the bounty...  The bounty on his head would make any man blush.  My share alone will be enough to pay for the hand of my intended.  It shall be glorious."

Kris looked to Archie, just catching the roll of his friend’s eyes.  This was a conversation he wanted no part in.  He had little enough patience with the man when there was something to gain from getting him onside, but now?  Now he had to find out which ship Adam had been transferred to and work out a new plan.

"Mister Archuleta will stay here with you to oversee the repairs, but I'm afraid I must visit the other ships and see how the work progresses," Kris smiled and touched the brim of his hat.  "Honest work waits for no man."

Ayres bit his lip as he shook his head, "I'm afraid that I can't let you off my ship yet.  The signal hasn't been given yet."

Kris frowned at that, "Signal?  What signal is this?"

"That the Marines have finished the transfer.  The men on the other ships will all be safely below decks while the transfer takes place and they will only return to duty once _The Retribution_ fires the all clear," Ayres explained.  "It's all terribly frustrating but the men have gotten used to it over these last few days.  You were below when the first signal came."

Kris could not remember hearing a shot, but that deep in the bowels of the ship, Heaven could have come to Earth and he would barely have heard much more than a whisper.

"I'll have my steward lay a table.  Today is beef-day and I believe that cook prepared a roast for lunch," Ayres led them down to the small officer’s room.

For a bigger ship than _The Dainty_ , she had a smaller mess cum wardroom, positively cramped in comparison, but there they sat eating tasteless beef until _The Retribution_ finally loosed a volley of muskets.  Kris wasted no time in taking his leave after that, pulling Cale with him as he left.

"It'll be okay, Kris," Cale spoke in low whispers, "We found him once.  We'll find him again and be out of here before we ever see the coast."

Kris smiled, but it was false and filled with a hope that he didn't feel.  Byng was smart, more wily than Kris had accounted for and he knew, deep down, that the Admiral would keep them as far from Adam as he could for the rest of their shared voyage.  Couldn't be seen to lose such a valuable prize, now could he?

Kris ran a finger over the ring and watched it shine under the strong midday sun.  If the Admiral could be wily, then Kris could be twice as canny. All he needed was a better plan, a prayer and a handful of faerie dust.

 


	10. With a Sprinkling of Luck

 

[ _**** _ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

  
_**14 th March 1711** _   
_**Aboard The Dainty, Approaching Charles Towne Harbour, Carolina Coast** _

 

Faerie dust, they said, was an impossible commodity to get hold of, but with a little ingenuity and a handful of _phosphorus mirabilis_ , a man could make the stars themselves appear to be caught in the very sails of the ship on which you sailed.  The plan to kidnap Adam from under the noses of the men who held him had died a spectacular death and been laid to rest in the depths of the sea.

Admiral Byng was taking no chances.

"It's not that I don't trust you, lad, because I do, but it's your crew d'ya see?" the Admiral had said on more than one occasion.  "I know you vouch for each and every man aboard, but the truth stands that they all spent more than a little time working with the knave's crew.  Men such as the rats that man our vessels want nothing more than a warm nook to bury themselves in and more than a handful of coppers in their purses, don't ya know?  Anyone of them can be swayed by a few pretty words from that bastard.  Most of them would sell their own mothers for a gold sovereign and a chance of more.  That's why the Navy invested us with officers strong enough to put down even the hint of a grumbling."

Neither Kris nor his men had come close to finding Adam again, even though they scoured every inch of every ship.  Wherever the Admiral had stowed him, he was out of Kris' reach, but that did not deter Kris for even a second.  Kris' mind was already working on another plan, and one that would show the Admiral that without the 'rats' aboard his ship he would be sunk.  With the port of Charles Town no more than a day away, Kris was directing his men to finish the last of the repairs with a little guidance from a rather special fellow that Brad had lent him just for this purpose.

Ivan had been an alchemist by trade back in the old courts of the frozen Northlands where he'd made his home until a wrecked love affair had sent him running for his life.  Sad as the story was, Kris was intensely thankful for his presence aboard ship, for with him came an arsenal of chemicals that Kris could barely comprehend.  The _phosphorus miribelis_ was by all accounts a fairly new item and one that was to play a pivotal role just as soon as they had reached port and rescued Adam. 

Even now, sprinkled liberally over the sails of each of the ships, they served their purpose.  Sailors were a superstitious lot, easily distracted by the most minor things.  As they sailed and the sea wind caught the sails, the crystals twinkled brightly bringing every man up on deck to watch and declare that they were doing God's own work and were blessed by His hand.  With that single thought came a cockiness that Kris was counting on.

"Lad, what is this?" Byng called out to Kris, his voice carrying easily from one deck to another.

"I don't know, sir," Kris lied easily, "I've never seen it before."

The Admiral groused for a while, stomping up and down the deck as he ordered his men back to work even as the twinkling dust performed its second and most important function. 

A flash of light came from the coastline and Kris smiled.  _The Madness_ had seen them and no doubt, even now, Brad was ordering the sails to be set and rousing the men from their bunks.  They would hug the coastline and keep to the shallower waters as they followed the convoy of ships up towards Charles Towne.  Kris could feel the nerves under his skin twitch and tingle, and he had to fight to keep the smile from his face.  The air smelt of storm and rain, and that would play to Kris' plan perfectly. 

Kris didn't sleep that night and neither did Archie.  Both stood on the bowsprit and watched as Charles Towne came into view. Cale and Cook stood beside them, fingers tight on the railings. There was an unspoken thought floating in the air around them, heavy but undeniable.  This would be the last time that they sailed openly into Charles Towne. After this, they would not be welcome.  After this, they would be branded traitors and criminals, and the Admiralty would put a price on their heads high enough to draw the attention of every half-wit captain and crew, but no man among their company gave that a second thought.

The sun rose and the tide turned, leaving them free to sail into their berth.  The Admiral's ships sailed behind them, letting Kris guide the way.  Kris braced as their ship hit the buffers and men rappelled down ropes to secure the ship.  _The Dainty_ was home.  Kris made his way down the gangplank as soon as it was lowered and made his way to the harbourmaster. 

"Admiral Byng will need space for his ships.  As close to the dock as you can muster," Kris ordered.

"Well, sir, I'm not sure that..." the harbourmaster cut off, shaking his head, "As you can see, I've got a goodly number of ships in already."

Kris dropped a bag of coins on the desk, his own but the sacrifice would be worth it.  It thunked heavily enough to catch the harbourmaster's attention and Kris smiled, "Close as you can and there'll be another of those for you.  The Admiral's word on it."

The harbourmaster didn't look up, "Aye, sir.  I'll clear off some of the merchant ships.  Tell the Admiral that he can count on me."

Kris left the small and cramped office and was due to head back to his ship when he saw a flash of palest green at the end of the harbour walk.  Katy stood there, Ellie beside her.  Both looked well, thank the Lord.  Katy walked towards him, fast as she could and Kris closed the distance.  Her fan fluttered in her hands as her eyes darted about. 

"Did you do it?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Not yet.  We almost had him but..." Kris trailed off as Katy sighed.

"There's something you should see at the house.  Soon as you can, Kris," Katy forced a smile and fluttered her fan in front of her face.

"Is everything alright?" Kris asked, worried now.  "My mother?"

"Is well," Katy answered.  "At your earliest convenience, come to the house."

Kris nodded and Katy stepped back, still forcing a smile. Kris took his leave with a promise to return home as soon as his duties were done.

In truth, he was tempted to turn straight for home but there were still some things to attend to, information that he needed.  The harbourmaster, true to his word, was ordering captains to recall their crews and take off for deeper waters as the Admiral sailed closer.  It would be some time until they docked and Kris needed to get everything in place.

The crowd had grown to coronation proportions by the time that _The Retribution_ docked and Kris could barely draw breath, the press of the crowd was so harsh. His men had started seeding through the crowd, already spreading rumblings of devilish retribution and the high cost of stealing _The Madness_ ' captain from the Devil's own ship. They were playing to the mythology, to every whispered tale shared around the embers, every story shared with misbehaving children. There were some who didn't believe, didn't give a second's credence to the stories, but for every man like that, there were ten who believed the stories with every breath.

Kris watched as Admiral Byng appeared on the deck, looking resplendent in his presentation uniform, all gold brocade and shiny buttons.  He paused at the head of the gangplank, one hand raised to take in the adulation that didn't come.  Disappointed and angry, his footsteps were heavy as he walked down the plank.  Behind him, came his officers, the captains of the other ships.  Ayres came last, almost meek in comparison.  Behind Ayres, and surrounded on all sides by marines, came Adam.  He was a shadow of himself, worse even than when Kris had seen him just days before.  He had not been given a shirt for the occasion and still wore the same dirty and stained breeches.  Kris could see new welts open on his skin, still bleeding under the daylight.  His hair was ratty and his beard was rough and unkempt.  His face still carried bruises, but the swelling had subsided.  As he stood there though, he straightened, drawing himself up to every inch of his impressive height.  The transformation from beaten prisoner to Master of _The Madness_ took Kris' breath away. 

One of the marines tugged on the heavy chains and Adam just turned to look at the man, not moving one single, solitary fraction of an inch from where he stood.  He looked out over the crowd and Kris saw the barest smirk play around his lips. Adam started down the gangplank at his own pace, striding over the wood and the cobbles as if he were simply stepping off in New Providence and not going to his gallows fate.  His eyes caught Kris in the crowd and Kris swore that he saw the man wink.  Idiot.  Stupid, loveable idiot.

Kris stepped back as the pomp started.  Admiral Gielham stepped from the Admiralty building and offered all hospitality to Admiral Byng.  Kris watched neither man, nor listened to their pretty speeches praising themselves and their achievements.  No.  Instead he looked to the third man making up their party and the man that Kris knew best.  His father.  Kris' father, Commander of the Charles Towne Garrison stood back and paid as little attention to the preening as Kris did.  His eyes were on Adam, taking measure of the man.  Eventually, he nodded and clicked his fingers.

"If we're done here, Admirals," Kris' father broke into the speeches with very little thought of propriety or any other social graces, "I'll take custody of the prisoner and take him to the garrison."

Before either of the Admirals could string even a half sentence together, Kris' father was moving and Adam was being led off by his father's men. The marines, pretty though there were, stood impotent in the Admiralty square as they were neatly replaced by Commander Allen’s own trusted few.

"The trial," Kris' father spoke again, "Ten o'clock, I believe."

"Yes," Admiral Gielham stuttered out his answer.

"Well then, I shall see you gentlemen at a quarter to.  Please send an envoy if you believe that you will be late."  Kris' father smiled, "I do find punctuality to be one of the founding stones of the Empire.  Don't you?"

The men could do no more than nod before he took off.  Adam was loaded into a cart and Kris' father sat beside him, his cane tucked neatly out of Adam's reach as the cart took off towards the garrison.  Kris watched until they turned a corner and disappeared from view.

His men reconvened beside _The Dainty_ waiting for Kris' words.  Kris smiled and leaned in close, "Rest well today, but be ready as the bells strike six.  We'll wait for nightfall.  By midnight, we'll be away and the Captain with us."

He turned to Cale, "Make for the headland and lay out the message to our friends at sea.  The timing must be perfect."

Cook's low rumbling voice cut through the excited whispers, "It may rain before then.  The air tastes of it."

"Pray God it does not," Kris crossed himself and kissed the ring upon his finger.  "Luck has held us thus far.  It will hold a moment further, but if it does, rouse the men and we move up our timelines."

"Aye, sir," Cook nodded. 

"Mister Archuleta," Kris looked to Archie, "you have the ship.  Make whatever preparations you deem appropriate and see that the men are rested."

"Of course," Archie smiled.

Orders given, Kris turned for home and took a final delight in walking over the cobbled streets.  He waved to shop keepers he had known his whole life, tipping his hat to the ladies as they walked down the street, promising to convey their regards to Katy and his mother.  However, his buoyant mood came to a crashing end the second the door swung open.

Daniel's voice was the first that he heard, the tone harsh and mocking, "You think that he'll marry you now that he's home?  We both know that he'll find yet another excuse and then disappear off to sea before mother can find a preacher.  He strings you along.  Lord alone knows why.  It's not as if you have a title or family.  But mother likes you and if you're so desperate to marry into this family, perhaps you'd best consider another brother."

Kris' eyes narrowed as he stood in the entry way and watched as Daniel snaked around Katy, slithering like some slimy eel on a hook.  His eyes bore the glassiness of several drinks already and his steps were a far reach from steady.  Katy stood her ground, facing Kris and relief flooded her face as she saw him.

"It's always such a welcome sight," Kris remarked, "to find your own brother trying to steal your betrothed while you are not there to defend yourself.  Please, brother, continue.  I would not dare to interrupt your courtship.  Katherine, on the other hand, you should know is quite adept with that fan.  I'd advise you not to turn your back on her."

Katy smiled the smallest smile and fluttered the fan with a quick snap of her wrist.

"You're home," Daniel smiled, and nothing in the world so reminded Kris of a shark's toothy grin.  "Wonderful.  Let's share a drink, Kris.  Katy, too."

Daniel turned on his heel and made for the sideboard, where Kris' father kept the good brandy.  His father's favourite indulgence was open on the sideboard and already half empty.  He pulled three glasses and poured overly generous shots into each.  He offered Katy the first, bowing deeply before retrieving the other two glasses.  Kris took the offered glass but did not drink.

"What are we drinking to?" Kris asked, moving closer to Katy, putting himself between her and Daniel.

"To promotion," Daniel laughed, but there was no warmth to it.  "To promotion.  To Madame Justice.  To regaining the honour that you so easily lost when you sided with that bastard."

"Watch your words," Kris growled out his reprimand.  "You speak easily of honour when it suits but forget the oaths by which you swore.  There is a lady present."

Daniel bowed deeply, sneering the entire time, "My apologies, milady.  How crude of me."  Daniel drew himself up and raised his glass.

Neither Kris nor Katy raised theirs, watching instead as Daniel drained the glass.

"Before you stands the newly gazetted First Lieutenant Daniel Allen, RN," Daniel's voice rose.  "My papers came this morning, signed by the Admiral's own hand."

"Congratulations," Kris said, careful of his tone.

"Aye, congratulations," Daniel mocked.  "Never wagered that I'd reach your rank and us still shy of captain, did you Kristopher?  Shall I tell you how I earned it?  Shall I? I simply did as you did, brother-mine.  I became a member of the glorious _Madness_ , signed and bonded by a scrap of paper.  I sailed with her.  I got to know her crew and when opportunity came, I simply jumped ship and got the message to the Navy."

Kris' hands clenched and he set the glass down on a table before he shattered it, or threw it at his brother's head.  Both were a distinct possibility, right now.  None on _The Madness_ had mentioned a new crew member, nor one who betrayed them.  He would need to ask Brad when he rejoined their number.

Daniel, it appeared, had not finished, "You see, brother, while you told me to steer clear of the Admiral, he set a course right for me.  Came to me with a mission, do ya see?  A dangerous mission, but the prospect of it was too good to pass up.  Who better to restore our family name than an Allen?" He paused, contemplative for a moment, "I can see why they have your sympathies.  They are quite a heady mix of competence and loyalty.  Some of them spoke quite highly of you, you should know.  Seems that the rat pirate captain is a shirt lifter and fancies himself sneaking under the covers with you.  I knew that they were morally destitute before I set foot aboard, but such things.  How could you bear to spend even a single moment aboard that ship?  You have a stronger stomach for such things than I do, it appears."

"Daniel," Kris' voice cracked Daniel across the face, silencing him so that he could do little more than blink up at Kris.  "You are drunk.  I congratulate you on your promotion.  I'm sure it was deserved," those words almost stuck in Kris' throat, "but perhaps you should find your bed now and sleep off the contents of our father's liquor cabinet."

"So straight-laced, Kristopher.  Always one to do your duty.  God, Queen and country, isn't that right?" Daniel leaned in and Kris had to turn his head to escape the putrid stench of his breath.

Daniel swayed and Kris caught him, holding him fast as he toppled sideways.  It reminded Kris of a time long past when his brother passed his ensigncy and his fellow officers had swapped out the usual watered down rum for a bottle of the purest proofs.  Daniel had been eleven, twelve, at the time and it had fallen to Kris to get him home in one piece.  The ten minute walk from the Admiralty building had taken three hours and there had been multiple stops along the way. 

Kris had been protective of his younger brother then, and that had not changed in all the time since.  Kris knew, _knew it for a fact_ , that the Admiral was preying on Daniel.  A young officer eager to right the wrongs in the world, he would have been an easy target.  A word here and there about honour, about duty, and Daniel would have sprung to attention, willing to take on any task, any mission no matter how dangerous.

A normal pirate ship, that was to say not _The Madness_ , would have slit his throat if he'd slipped.  Honestly, much as he loved his crew, he could not guarantee that they would not do the same.  His name and his tie to Kris might have been enough to save him, if he'd given his name and not some falsehood, but it would have been a close run thing.  Treachery and disloyalty were the worst of possible crimes on a pirate ship, second only to being unsafe with lit flames in the powder room.

"There are things that you don't know about me," Kris whispered the words, "a thousand things and someday we will sit down and talk of them.  But not now, Daniel.  Not now."

There was regret in his words and the truth of it was that Kris did hold some true measure of regret. Not for his plans to rescue Adam and run off to sea with him.  No.  Never that. His regret centred around his family.  Katy, his father, his mother, even Daniel would suffer for his choices but somewhere along the course, he'd figured out something so important that he'd sat on his backside for an hour trying to work out how he'd missed so fundamental an observation.

This was his life.  It was the only one that he possessed and he must live it to its fullest potential. He deserved no less happiness than any other person on the world.  Happiness, and contentment, for him came in the form of Adam Lambert, dread pirate captain and Kris' lover, the only one that he would have for the rest of his life.

Daniel, swayed by Kris' words, took his leave and the almost empty bottle of brandy, and made his way towards the stairs.  Kris watched him go, his eyes following his brother until he disappeared down the corridor off the main landing.

He turned to Katy and took a seat beside her.  He took her hand in his and held it as he looked down at it.

"It's to be tonight," Kris finally spoke, breaking the silence.  "Everything is in place."

"Oh," Katy spoke softly.  "That's good."

"Yes," Kris agreed.  "I would like it if we could spend these last few hours together.  You are my dearest friend and I shall miss you terribly."

"But..." Katy started.

Kris cut across her, squeezing her hand, "Please, just these last few hours.  That's all I ask."

Katy looked at him for a moment and sighed, "Of course we will spend the time together.  I would hear of nothing else."

Kris thought he saw a look cross Katy's face but before he could categorise it, it was gone and fan flickered out to cover her face.  He wished that it could be different, that he could have put something in place for her, some saving plan that would secure her future, but his father would see to that, and his mother loved her as a daughter.  No harm would come to her under their watchful eyes.  That, at least, was a comfort.

They talked of inconsequential things, stepping out for dinner and a walk around the park.  Kris dared not explain their plan to her, though she did ask.  Charles Towne was filled to the brim with travellers, all anticipating the trial the following day and hoping for a good seat, and Kris dared not speak of even the barest detail where others could overhear.  Besides which, for her own good, Katy did not need any knowledge of the plan.  She would be questioned, that was not even slightly in doubt, but she would not have to lie if Kris shared nothing with her.

Eventually, the time came and the church bells chimed six.  Kris took Katy's hands in his and embraced her.  A peck on the cheek and he made to take his leave.  Katy had a different plan though.  She pulled him close and placed her lips on his, moving from chaste and sweet to something else.  When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed.

"Katherine O'Connell," it was Ellie's voice and Kris jumped back a full six feet.  "I raised you better than that."

Katy laughed, "Ah but Ellie, this was my last chance.  After tonight, Kris will be all but married to his Captain and _The Madness,_ and I needed to know once and truly that it would never have worked between us."

"And are you satisfied now, child?" Ellie chided, drawing her further away from Kris.

"No," Katy shook her head, a smile still playing at her lips, "and that's most probably the problem."

Kris blushed and stammered, "I... I... Katy... I..."

"Oh don't fret so, Kris," Katy stepped around Ellie and patted his arm.  "What I meant was that there was no spark, no fire.  I've felt more emotion practicing kissing with my pillow."

"Katherine Elizabeth O'Connell, do not think that you are not too old to get a hiding from me," Ellie herded her back again.  "My knee is still sturdy enough to put you across it."

"You take a message to that captain of yours," Katy looked Kris in the eye.  "He is to treat each day with you as if it is a day in paradise.  Live each moment and take joy from all the little things.  For if he does not, then I shall send Ellie along with her knee and her favourite wooden spoon.  If he is not cowering in his boots at that threat, tell him that I will track him down and he'll regret every frown that he puts on your face."

"You're a wonder, Katy," Kris smiled at her words, knowing that she would carry out every measure of her threat without hesitation.  "I would have married you, you know?  And I would have been a good husband."

"I know, Kris," Katy reached out to him and he took her hand in his again.  "I don't doubt that you would have been wonderful, but both of us deserve a lifetime of happiness.  You've found yours.  I'm still searching.  Maybe one day soon though."

"It'll be my every prayer," Kris kissed the back of her hand.  "Stay safe."

"I will, love," Katy breathed.  "You too."

"I'll write."

"Yes, you will!" Katy laughed again and with another embrace, much more chaste this time, Kris left.

 



 

Tommy fell into step beside Kris as he cut through streets and alleyways, a shadow moving with him, totally unseen except for when the last rays of the sun caught the knives strapped to his hips and the sword sheathed to his spine.  It had come as a surprise to Kris when Brad had insisted, but now, it seemed completely natural.  Tommy, it seemed, was adept with knives not only in the dark confines of the steward’s kitchen but on the street.  Indeed, he'd served his time in more than one prison across the water, but here, at Kris' back, he moved with a purpose that Kris could not deny.  A purpose that was the mirror to Kris' own.

The garrison walls were tall, endless, as they looked up at them.  The fading light painted them a foreboding black, the darkness creeping up with every second that passed.  Kris gestured Tommy forward, pulling open a door that stood at the bottom of the cliff face.  It was a smuggler's door, usually below sea level but useful in getting important prisoners out or getting supplies in while the garrison was under siege.  Kris knew the steps well.  He'd travelled them a hundred times and more with his father, and now, with an adept hand, he flicked the lock and stepped into the darkness beyond.

The door shut behind them, the lock clicking back into place and they waited, eyes scrabbling for every scrap of light that they could get until, eventually, they could just make out the steps before them.  The stairs, four hundred of them, rose in a twisty spiral, back and forth until they were deep in the heart of the garrison.  Kris reached the top first, with Tommy no more than a breath behind him, and peeked around the corner.  They were clear.  With a gesture, Kris beckoned Tommy on as he ran to the next corner and then the next.

The cells sat on a single level, well under the barracks, and Kris traipsed down the corridors, watching the markings on the walls, put there by young soldiers a long time ago to save them from getting lost in the rabbit warren, or so the story went.  Two arrows to the left with a star below them - the barracks. One arrow pointing right with a cross under it - the cells.  Kris pointed out the symbols to Tommy and moved on. 

Voices ahead stopped them and Kris halted, back pressed flat against the wall.  He hardly dared to breathe as he listened in.

"...tough break that left you down here on your own while we watch the walls," a jolly voice bounced off the walls, laughing at his mate's misfortune.  "But we'll think of you while we're up there with the good coffee and a nice flagon of ale, don't you mind none."

"If you were half the friend that you claim, you'd bring the good coffee and the ale down and make the night a little shorter," his mate replied.

"Ah now, ya don't really want to be on the battlements tonight, John," a third voice joined them, "what with witchery in the water and _The Madness_ due in port any hour now."

Kris' hand tightened on Tommy's wrist as he strained to hear.

"Ptut on _The Madness_ ," the jolly man spat.  "Any that believe that she lies anywhere but on the bottom of the ocean needs his head examined.  There's no way that _The Madness_ ' Master is anywhere but on board if she's still sailing."

His friends laughed and took their leave, laughing as they went.  Kris heard the scuffing footsteps from the one remaining soldier over the sandy floor as he kicked the ground. Kris waited, counting seconds in heartbeats until he reached three thousand and then stepped forward.

"Stop where you are," the guard ordered, his pistol ready and aimed directly at Kris.

Kris smiled and held up his hands, "Good evening."

The guard's eyes tracked over Kris' uniform, the bright shine of the buttons and the golden braiding and relaxed a fraction.  The muzzle of the pistol was raised to point more towards the ceiling than at Kris' heart and for that Kris was thankful.

"I'm sorry, I've met you before haven't I?" Kris asked.  "I know I have but for the life of me, I cannot bring myself to remember your name."

"It's Armstrong, sir.  John Armstrong," the man supplied, tipping his tattered red cap with his free hand.

"Of course it is," Kris smiled widely.  "I've heard my father speak of you."

"Of me, sir?" Armstrong flushed a fraction. "I doubt that, sir."

"You know who my father is then?" Kris toed forward slowly, lowering his hands inch by inch until they were at his side.

"Oh yes, sir.  Every man in Charles Towne knows you, sir," Armstrong smiled and then sobered.  "Was fierce sorry for your troubles, sir.  Was a bad run of luck, so it was."

Kris shook his head, "Aye. It was an uncanny run of luck indeed, but that's behind me now."  Kris pulled a hip flask from his pocked and took a swig.  "Armstrong," he tapped the hipflask against his chin.  "Aye, my father has spoken of you a time or two.  It's hard to find stalwart men, he said.  Good at their job and willing to take the post assigned without a grumble or a word.  But I'd wager you understand that more than most," Kris turned to Armstrong.

"Well, sir, if you say so," Armstrong shuffled from foot to foot.

The pistol wasn't away yet, but it was visibly weighing heavy in the man's hand.

"Sit a minute with me, Armstrong," Kris lowered himself to the bench seat tucked in against the wall and held out the hipflask. 

The offer of liquor moved Armstrong faster than Kris' request and the man sat himself down and sniffed at the flask.  It wasn't doctored - not in the least - but it was filled with the best whiskey that Kris could find in his father's cabinet, and the likes of which a man like Armstrong had never tasted before.  He sipped at it.  His eyes opened wide, and when he went back for the next swig, it was much longer and deeper.

"I shouldn't be here," Kris spoke softly, as if confiding in Armstrong.  "I mean, it's the worst idea, but when I started walking, my feet just found their way here to the garrison.  I was on one of the ships that escorted him here, do you see?  You probably saw it right enough, and laughed."

"Oh no, sir, I wouldn't," Armstrong was quick to reassure Kris.

"Why not?" Kris barked a half-laugh.  "Were I not on her, I would have.  _The Dainty_ , they called her.  Pretty and sweet, and a damned sight smaller than any other ship in the port.  I'd never been on anything smaller than a frigate before this whole mess happened.  Son of a decorated captain, hero in too many engagements to count, injured defending the honour of the British Navy.  Had to do right by his sons, and they did.  I had the best of captains to learn under and was due to step up to captain in my own right the second that Captain Forester rose to Admiral.  It would be his Admiral's wish.  Told me so himself, but instead we run across _that_ ship and she lays us open, stern to prow."

Kris took the hipflask back and took a sip before handing it back, "I cared for my men, each and every one of them.  My father's got a good reputation, I've heard.  Approachable, concerned and invested in the troubles that nibble at his men.  I tried to follow that example, but that concern became the noose around my neck."

Kris' stomach growled as it tightened.  He detested lying to this hapless fellow but he needed him gone and he would not, could not, see him dead when he could have the man move on voluntarily and with a smile on his face.  Brad had argued with him on that point, but Kris had insisted.

"I needed my men safe.  I needed them whole and well and if I needed to put my life on the line to do that, I considered it a fair trade," Kris shook his head.  "Little did I know that I'd face condemnation for it, or that the Admiralty would try to hang me for it.  'Twas only luck that kept me alive.  Luck and an Admiral who balked at being told what to do.  The man who is responsible for this whole damned situation is _right there_ , behind that door.  Most likely asleep and dreaming of the tortures that he put me through.  Hardly seems fair that he goes to the courts tomorrow and they get to proclaim their verdict from the highest stage and I get to do nothing more than watch."

Kris watched as Armstrong struggled with his conscience, every emotion flickering across his face as his conscience warred with his common sense and he tried to work out a compromise between duty and his own sense of moral justice.  Kris didn't speak, didn't dare break the man's deadlocked argument lest it mean that he decided against what Kris needed him to do.

"Well, sir," Armstrong spoke slowly, sounding out each syllable as he worked through his thoughts.  "I can't say as I've ever been in the same situation.  I'm just a simple man, but I remember when my brother stole my wife out from under me and I can't say that I enjoyed the feeling.  Made a right mockery of me as he paraded her around town, telling all and sundry as would listen that I was a bad husband and out of pure goodness, he was _forced_ to see to my wife's welfare.  If I'd have met him down a dark alleyway, I'd have laid into him good and proper.  There wouldn't have been a stitch of him left, big enough to look to my wife's damned welfare.  I didn't get that chance, sir, but I can make sure that you do."

Kris looked up, feigning shock, "But John, how?  I mean, I can't ask you to..."

"Ain't but a thing, sir," Armstrong shrugged.  "Honest men, hard done by life, need to look out for each other.  That's the way that I reckon things.  We've other prisoners about the cells.  Some down in the far reaches.  It'll take me a good hour to do the rounds tonight, I'd wager.  Some of them object to being in the same jail as a pirate, if you'd credit that?  But rumour on the wind is that there'll be those looking to spring yon bastard from his cell tonight, so I'd best check every nook and cranny on my round."

Kris was on his feet faster than Armstrong could track and clapping the man on the shoulder.  Armstrong ducked his head and smiled.  He pushed himself up and capped the hip flask, offering it back to Kris.  Kris shook his head and pushed it back into Armstrong's hand.

"Keep it, John," Kris smiled, genuine but with a cold edge to it.  "It'll be cold tonight and I'd wager that you'll need it more than I.  Hate warms your soul more than the finest whiskey, mark my words.  When you finish tonight, I'll make sure there's a crown behind the bar for you and your friends.  Truly, you do not know how much this means to me."

"Long as he's alive to stand trial tomorrow morning," Armstrong nodded, "no one will mind if he's a little roughed up."

"Oh, he'll be alive tomorrow morning, John," Kris promised, "my word on it."

"That's good enough for me," Armstrong nodded and took another swig of the hipflask before tucking it into his shirt.  "Best you were gone before I'm back, though."

"I will be," Kris nodded.

Armstrong looked to the cell and dug the key out of his pocket.  He turned it in the lock and pointed Kris to the master key hanging just a few feet from a hook on the wall.  Kris nodded at the implication and watched Armstrong walk away down the hallway. As soon as he was out of sight, Kris threw open the door and stepped inside.   

Adam lay on the bunk against the back wall, his eyes open and catching the torchlight as Kris stepped into the cell.  He struggled to his feet, one arm wrapped around his ribs and the other balancing him against the wall.  He was battered, bruised and far too close to death for Kris' liking but he was beautiful, glorious even.  Kris rushed to him, stopping just short of him and hesitating.  It was Adam who stepped into the hug, curling an arm around Kris and kissing the top of his head.

"I prayed," Adam's words were but a whisper but they carried easily as far as Kris' heart.  "I prayed that I would see you again.  One last time before the end and here you are."

Kris pulled back a fraction, tilting his head up to look Adam in the eye, "It's not the end, Adam, and I will not have you think so."

Adam smiled, "How long do we have?"

"The guard said that he would be walking the cells for an hour.  It's not long, I know.  But it's long enough," Kris sighed.

"Forever would not be long enough," Adam leaned into Kris and bent to kiss at his lips. 

Kris allowed himself the moment, that one fleeting moment of reconnection, of pure abject pleasure.  Adam tasted of blood and sweat, but underneath it all, there was more.  There was salt and water and that unmistakeable element of just pure Adam. Adam's lips were harsher, dryer than ever before, but Kris licked his tongue over them nonetheless.  Adam's hands picked at his shirt, pulling it from his breeches and made to pull it up further, but Kris stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"Love, I wish that we could, but every moment is precious," Kris stepped back, not missing Adam's disappointed groan.

Adam was frowning when Kris chanced to look up, "But if every moment is precious...  I will not take you for the last time bent over with nought but our breeches undone."

"The last..." Kris shook his head, a smile growing on his face.  "Adam-love, you wonderful, glorious idiot.  I did not break in here just to tup you one last time.  I'm here.  Tommy's here. Brad's almost to the harbour and we've peppered the British ships with enough to make them nothing more than a pretty distraction.  We're here to break you out, love."

Adam shook his head, not quite understanding the words that Kris was speaking.  Kris saw the moment when the situation struck home reflected in Adam's eyes and was there to hold him when he staggered backwards.  He sat down heavily, his hand going once again to his ribs. 

"Adam?  Adam, are you alright?  Adam, speak to me," Kris hunkered down in front of him, truly worried.

"I prayed to see you one last time, love," Adam brushed a hand through Kris' hair, "and when you came, I thought that someone was answering my prayer.  I was never foolish enough to ask for a miracle."

"And yet, here one is," Kris smiled.

He took Adam's hands in his and kissed the bruised and battered skin.

"Yes, here he is," Adam agreed, his smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle at the edges.  The smile faded though as Adam sobered, "But how?  You cannot rescue me.  There will be those who see you, who know what you have done.  Your career?  Your life?"

"My life as a spoiled officer of Her Majesty's Navy? That was done as soon as I met you," Kris smiled.  "I have made my peace with my decision and regret it not at all.  Well, that is to say, I won't regret it if we get out of here.  If we are caught then there may be a few regrets, so pardon my bluntness, Adam, but get to your damned feet and let's be off."

"Aye, Lieutenant," Adam pushed himself up again and found his feet quicker this time. 

Kris led him out, waiting for Tommy to give the all clear before letting Adam step from his cell.  Adam embraced Tommy quickly.

"Good to see you, Captain," Tommy smiled. Tommy pulled the sword from his spine scabbard and handed it over, "It's not as fine as your own, Captain, but I find she does in a pinch."

Kris moved up to the corner and peered around, watching and listening for the heavy echo of footsteps.  Thankfully, there were none.  Adam tested his blade and they were off. 

Step by carefully placed step, they made their way through the compound, Kris' memory their only map.  They made a few wrong turnings but backtracked as soon as their mistakes became apparent.  There was an easy camaraderie between the three men, as each hopped between front, middle and rear of the group, leap-frogging from corner to corner to peek around the walls.

"Ahead," Kris stopped to lean against the wall and catch his breath, "is the corridor that leads to the main bunkhouse.  Like as not, we'll encounter one or two men there.  I know that it will be difficult and if there is no alternative then I will understand but..." Kris paused.  "These are my father's men and..."

"And if we can leave them alive," Adam filled in the rest of the sentence, nodding.  "Aye.  We'll try but not all men can be stopped with a few slashes and a kick or two."

Kris looked over Adam's bare torso, to the dried blood and healing cuts, "You are not most men, love.  These are men with families counting on their wages, who chose to work here rather than go to sea.  They were after the easy life, and while the life here is easy compared to the endless storms and mounting hardships that we go through with a life at sea, there are very few who would risk their lives in the face of a dread pirate who, stories say, has no mercy and leaves no man alive to tell the tales."

"It may be as you say," Adam nodded, "but within every group of men, there are the stubborn fools.. I'll, we'll, do what we can, but we may not get to the gates without ending a man's life."

"I know," Kris sighed.

"But we'll do our best," Adam promised, sealing it with a one armed embrace and a kiss to Kris' forehead.

Kris nodded and pushed forward.  Kris kept watch, beckoning Adam and Tommy on, and then they were past it.  Luck, however, was a fickle thing and trickled through a good man's fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass.  They were close to the east gate, in sight of it, when the first shout went up.

"Oi, stop where you are."

Kris froze at the voice, hardly daring to turn and look at the men.  Adam and Tommy had skidded to a stop as well, feet sliding on the rough packed dirt on the floor.  Kris heard the click of muskets and pistols being primed and readied.  He looked to the left, to Tommy whose hands were hovering dangerously close to his knives, and then to the right, to Adam who had his sword in his hand and a smile on his face.

"Stay behind me, Kris," Adam ordered and Kris just rolled his eyes.

The men were moving up behind them, Kris closed his eyes and tracked their footsteps. 

Three more seconds, two, one and then... 

Kris turned, pulling his pistols and cocking them in a single movement.  He didn't fire though, couldn't, because Tommy and Adam were jumping straight into the fray.  Tommy was a demon, twin bladed katars flashing out to take men down with a fury Kris had never seen before. 

Adam was no different, swinging the sword as if this were his final battle.  He slashed out, taking men down to the left and right but by the groans, they still breathed.  The men they were fighting had nothing more than their muskets and were using them to hold off the furious stokes of the blades.  Ten men, five now, and every one of them outmatched.

Kris grinned and tossed his pistols in the air, catching them by the barrels instead and waded in.  He narrowly avoided the sweeping arc of Adam's blade as it skittered off the musket barrel of the man he was engaged with.  Kris laughed as he swung his pistol, catching the guard a crack across the back of his head and down he went.

A smile from Adam and Kris was moving again, taking on the next man.  This man was bigger, broader, and Kris outmanoeuvred him quickly, ducking under his slow blows and hitting him on the joints until he dropped his musket and punted for punches instead.  Kris twirled away, clearing the massive roundhouse punch before it could connect and then skipped closer to crack the man across the temple with a solid double tap, one pistol butt after the other.  The man stood, wobbling only slightly, and then toppled over, catching the ankle of the man beside him as he fell.  Kris took the advantage and caught the man on the back of the head as he stumbled.

Adam still fought, smiling and taunting the man as he sliced his shirt to ribbons.  Kris stood back and watched, smiling as Adam danced around the man.  A flash of movement caught Kris' eye and he turned to see one of the downed men raise his musket and aim at Adam. Kris flipped his pistols and fired, but as he did, so did the guard.  Kris' shot hit him mid forehead and the man collapsed back.

Adam cried out and Kris turned to see Adam stumble and fall.  The man in front of him smiled viciously and time slowed as Kris watched him turn his musket to point at Adam.  Kris' other pistol was coming up, but Tommy moved first, his katar slicing across the man's throat.  The musket fell from his hands and he fell.  Dead.

They heard a cry go up and Kris cursed.

Kris was by Adam's side in an instant.  Fresh blood soaked through Adam's breeches.  Kris pulled the sleeve from his shirt with a wrench and tied it tightly around Adam's leg.  It would not stop the bleeding, but it would help.  It was all he could do for now.  He tucked his pistols back into the waistband of his breeches and shouldered Adam's weight as he tried to push to his feet.  It was clumsy but Kris made it work, supporting Adam as they covered the last few feet to the east gate and stepped outside into Charles Towne, into freedom. 

Kris chanced a glance at the harbour and saw the British ships still at anchor there, but in the distance, just at the edge of the harbour wall there was another ship, a familiar ship and with her sailed six others, all with black sails and blood red flags.  Kris looked to the sky and smiled as he saw the dark clouds covering the city.

They moved on quickly, making their way from the garrison to safety by hopping from dark doorway to dark alleyway.  They could hear the alarm being raised behind them, bells ringing out.  The streets filled and they huddled down behind some discarded crates just as the first drizzle of rain started to fall.  Kris brushed the droplet from his face and was about to curse their fortune when he remembered the plan. 

Crawling forward, they watched as _The Madness_ let loose her guns.  One shot, two, an entire broadside and that was it.  _The Retribution_ was the first to catch, her sails sparking as her crew scrambled to the guns, and then she burned.  _The Dauntless_ was next.  Kris almost felt sorry for Ayres but not enough to do anything but watch the sails go up in flames.  Kris watched another ship take to flame before turning back to Adam and taking a look at his leg. 

The shot had struck mid-thigh, but it had not done too much damage.  The blood was stopping and drying already.  Kris could do no more until they got to an inn and he could see to the wound. 

They heard carriage wheels coming down the street and hunkered down further behind the crates.  Kris peered through the boxes, his hand on his one loaded pistol, ready to fire should the need occur.  The carriage paused at the end of the alleyway and Kris saw a man look down their way from under a wide brimmed hat.  Kris could make out no features, but he did not miss it when the man tapped on the side of the carriage.  He also did not miss the opening of the carriage door and a woman stepping out.  Blonde curls came from under a pretty brown bonnet and Kris cursed.

Adam frowned as Kris stood, his pistol back in the waistband of his breeches again, "Kris?"

"One moment, Adam, and I swear I'll be done," Kris promised, patting Adam's hand with his own.

"Katy, what are you doing here?" Kris asked.  "We already said our goodbyes.  There was no need to come out like this."

"Oh yes, Kris, we said our goodbyes, and very lovely they were too.  Touching but not overly cloying," Katy smiled, "but I must say, you can be frightfully dense when the moment takes you."

She pushed past him, moving him to one side with judicious application of her fan, and walked straight to the crates, peering over them.

"Mister Ratliff, always a pleasure," she smiled.

"You too, ma'am," Tommy bowed his head.

"And you must be Captain Lambert," Katy beamed down at Adam, extending her hand.  Adam took it and kissed the lace glove that she wore.  "Delightful to meet you.  I've heard such wonderful stories about you.  Tell me honestly, Captain, was it love at first sight for you also or was it a slower burn?"

Adam laughed, "Miss O'Connell, Kris has told me so much about you that I cannot believe that this is our first meeting."

"All good, I hope," she smiled.  "And don't think that I didn't notice you side-stepping my question, but that's alright.  We have a good number of hours ahead of us as we trip up the coast.  You can tell me everything then."

"Katherine," Kris hissed, "what are you doing?  You're not going up the coast.  _We're_ not going up the coast."

"Yes, you are," Katy smiled.  "I told that wonderful Mister Archuleta that you had a change of plans and would rendezvous with him and _The Madness_ up the coast a ways.  He was kind enough to promise to relay the message to _The Madness_."

"Katherine, you can't just change plans like that," Kris ran a hand through his hair.

"Nonsense, Kristopher, I just did, and if you want to meet up with them, you'll come along with me and I'll smuggle you out of the city in my carriage," she smiled.  "Captain, let me help you up.  You seem to have done yourself an injury.  Ellie, my best friend in the world besides Kristopher, is a wonder with a needle and thread, and even better when it comes to fixing people up."

Adam had a smirk on his face as he looked at Kris, but he took her arm gently.  Tommy took his other side and together they got him to the carriage, Kris trailing on behind.

"Let me just let Geoffrey know our destination and I'll be right back," Katy smiled, cheeks dimpling as she ducked out again.

"So that is Katherine O'Connell," Adam watched her through the window.  "Quite the firebrand.  Reminds me of a woman I used to sail with."

"Lord save you, then," Kris shook his head.

Katy stepped into the carriage again and took her seat, fluffing her skirts out and straightening the lacework as the carriage took off.  There was a twinkle in her eye as she looked up and Kris sank lower in his seat.  Katy with that particular twinkle was a deadly combination, and just for a fraction of a second, Kris wished that he were anywhere but here in this carriage.  It was only a slight relief when Kris realised that he was not target that she had set her sights on this time.

"So, Captain Lambert, start at the beginning.  I want to know everything about the man who captured my Kristopher's heart..."

 

 

 

[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)


	11. A Thousand Leagues More

 

[ _**** _ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

  
_**14 th March 1711** _   
_**The North Road, 13 Leagues from Charles Towne, Carolina** _

 

They drove through the night, Geoffrey cracking the whip on the horses to get them as far from Charles Towne as they could possibly get.  There'd been a few moments when Kris doubted that they'd get away but Geoffrey had weathered them well and escaped the city with ease.  Adam had been less fortunate when it had come to Katy's questions.  Indeed, Kris wagered, she would be more trained than a significant number of new sailors when she stepped aboard _The Madness_.  She'd made it clear that was her plan just as soon as they'd crossed the city boundary.

"I _know_ that it's irregular, Kris," she said, rolling her eyes at his every protest, "but point me towards an instance when a single item of this has been regular.  The simple fact is that if I stay in Charles Towne without either the prospect of a husband or the protection of some magnificent benefactor, I shall be forced to return to my father's house and from there it would be best if I simply took a knife to my heart and ended my tale right there."

Kris had, of course, told her that his house would still have been a haven for her but she'd just laughed.

"You really are a man of the sea, aren't you, Kris?"  Kris hadn't understood so she continued.  "Your mother is a kind and generous woman.  That's without question, but think about what taking me in would do to your family.  Your father has quite the reputation but doing this, stealing Adam out from under him, will leave that tarnished around the edges and while I don't doubt that he will be able to steady his feet under him in short order, he'll need to put distance between you and himself." 

"Your mother will be no different," Katy shook her head at that.  "She'll wring her hands and cry all the tears and when asked, she won't say that they are for you.  No, she will lie and say that they are _caused_ by you.  I'll be your jilted bride, oft promised, but never carried through.  Pushed off from one season to the next.  The town knows that you were having second and third thoughts long before this.  I'd get sympathy from the ladies at first.  How terrible, they'd say, and then the needling will start.  How could she love such a man?  How could she not know that he was harbouring a pirate's heart?"

She sighed, "It won't take long for my name to be like the mud on the street.  I'll stop getting invitations, and so will your mother if she stands beside me, and eventually, it will all come to a halt and your mother will make the suggestion that perhaps, with my mother being sick, it would be best if I visited her.  An hour will turn into a day, a day into a night and my father's hands will be around my throat before long.  I'll be his thing, to do with what he pleases.  Any life is better than that, Kris."

Patting his arm, she smiled, but it was coloured with sadness, "You're a good man, and if you'd not found your heart, you'd have been a good husband; but that wasn't our path to travel.  I've thought it before, you are too good for the likes of Charles Towne.  You're naive in the way the parts of the world not directly related to the sea work.  Put you down on a ship and you can ready the sails and do all the things that you need to do to get it ready to put to sea without a second thought, but the workings of town politics, I think, are beyond you."

Kris had to admit that she was right.  He knew how the Admiralty worked but beyond that, Charles Towne was a mystery to him.  He had never minded that, truth be told.  He never felt entirely comfortable without the roll of the waves under his feet and a good breeze at his back.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, Miss O'Connell," Adam put in, "but Kris explained your situation."

"I expect he did," Katy nodded.  "A man should have no secrets from his one true love."

Adam smiled at that, "Indeed.  However, I think that this needs to be said.  I admire your spirit, your courage, but I don't believe that a life at sea is for you.  Men like Kris and I feel the salt water in our veins.  We were born of the sea and we'll return to the sea at the very end.  You have life and vitality and, while every reason that you gave was valid, none of them come close to convincing me that your path lies at sea."

Katy opened her mouth to speak but Adam held up a hand, "Don't misunderstand me, Miss O'Connell.  I believe that you are right.  I believe that if we left you behind you would be dead or worse within a month.  I don't dispute that.  Not even for a second.  I will gladly give you a place on _The Madness_ , but your adventures lie in another direction.  I'll carry you, _we'll_ carry you, until you find that path."

"Thank you, Captain," Katy smiled, sitting back in her seat and considering Adam's words. "I've never been to sea before.  Never farther than the walls of Charles Towne harbour if truth be known.  I look forward to it."

Adam smiled, "Well then, it must be luck that has your first trip on _The Madness_.  There's no finer ship on all the seas."

"So I've been told," Katy smiled.  "Will I have to sign the articles?"

Adam nodded, "Aye.  Everyone who sails on her, signs the articles.  It's to hold them to account for both the safety of the ship and every life aboard."

"So, I'll be your crew then?" Katy asked.

Frowning, Adam nodded again, "Yes.  I suppose you could say that."

"I see," Katy thought on that for a second.  "Then I had best say my piece now."

"Katy?" Kris wondered where she was going with this but she was already leaning towards Adam.

"You listen well and hear what I'm saying, Adam Lambert," her voice was dangerously low.  "Kristopher is more than my ex-fiancé.  He's my heart and my brother, and woe betide anyone who hurts him.  You will treat him well and look to his care before you look to your own.  Otherwise, on some dark night, in some dark place, I will find you and I will ensure that you never make it back to your beloved _Madness_.  You'll crawl through the gutters, begging for help, and the last thing you will see is my smiling face and my bloody blade.  Do you understand me, Captain Lambert?"

Adam's eyes were wide and he was sitting as far back in his seat as he reasonably could.  He could only nod at her words, for every single one of them was sincere and heartfelt.

"The man who wins your heart will be a lucky man indeed," Tommy whispered in the silence.

Katy sat back, her smile perfect as she flicked a ringlet back over her shoulder, "How kind of you to say, Mister Ratliff."

The conversation had faded back to normality after that, the conversation between Katy and Adam stuttering a little for a while, but soon they found their feet again and chatted like old friends, drawing Kris, Tommy and even Ellie into their discussions.

Sleep had claimed Adam shortly before midnight and Katy just the other side of it.  Adam's head was resting on Kris' shoulder and Kris pressed his cheek to the mess of tangled hair.  Adam's hand was in his own and growing warmer with every passing hour.  Kris was hesitant to say anything but he was glad when the carriage pulled to a stop.  Dawn was already courting the horizon when they stopped for the evening, dark blue fading to light blue and pink painting just around the edges of the skies. 

Ellie brushed Katy's hand to wake her and she woke easily, blinking at the world around them and everyone in the carriage.  Kris pressed a kiss to Adam's forehead.  He was burning up, scorching hot against Kris' lips.  He made no move towards waking and Kris shook him gently.  There was a moan but nothing more significant.  Kris cursed and placed a hand on his chest.  The rise and fall was reassuring but it was shallow.

"Tommy, wake the innkeeper.  Get rooms," Kris ordered.  "Hot water and whatever cloth he can spare."

Tommy nodded and headed out of the carriage at a run.

"Geoffrey," Kris called out.  "I'll need your help to get him inside."

Geoffrey was by his side a moment later, politely asking the ladies to move so that he could get his arms under Adam's torso. Adam was tall, that was no new fact, but sick like this, he weighed like the dead and that was not a thought that played well in Kris' mind.  Ellie came after them, followed along by Katy.

The inn wasn't any different from any of the hundred thousand such establishments up and down the coast, but there was a warm fire and a hog roasting above the flames.  Geoffrey helped Kris to get Adam inside and up the stairs to one of the rooms.  Adam fought about half way up the stairs, lips half forming words and groans as he flapped his arms in some meagre replication of a _grande riposte_.  Kris ducked and then cursed as Adam kicked out.

With no small amount of manhandling, they got Adam inside and settled on the bed.  Katy sat beside his head and brushed his hair away from his fevered brow.  She hummed quiet songs as Kris sent Geoffrey down for a bottle of liquor, the strongest they had.  Tommy and Geoffrey appeared back at the same time, clutching blankets and bottles between them. 

Ellie sat on the bed beside Adam's leg and pressed at the edges of the wound.  Adam lashed out again.  She looked to Kris and shook her head.

"It's bad, child," she spoke softly.

"I know," Kris barely whispered, "but we must do something.  He'll not make it to _The Madness_ otherwise."

"True," she nodded.

Geoffrey handed her a case and she unbuckled it, rolling the bag out flat on the bed.  There were a hundred different compartments along the length of the fabric with things tucked into every little nook.

She pulled a scissors out first, large and heavy, and handed it handle first to Kris.  Kris took it and with a careful stroke, edged the blade into the hole in Adam's breeches.  He slid the scissors up and then turned it to go down.  The fabric slit easily and Kris pulled it back to see the wound better. The wound itself was surrounded by a puffy red raised rim.  As Kris pressed on the edges, blood oozed sluggishly out accompanied with tinges of yellow-green pus. 

Kris cursed and damned Admiral Byng for Adam's treatment aboard ship.  If he'd been healthy and well fed, such an infection would have taken much longer to fester.  As it was, Adam's body was at its limit and beyond. 

"The round, Kristopher," Ellie whispered. "You'll need to pull it out before he can even start to heal."

Kris nodded, "I know, but..."

"No buts," Katy said, her voice sure and steady.  "You can do this."

Kris rubbed a hand over his face and nodded, "I can do this.  The bottle, please."

Tommy handed him the bottle.  Kris uncorked it and took a swig.  Katy clucked her tongue but Kris didn't care.  His hands were shaking and he could feel sweat pricking at his skin.  The next drop went straight on the wound, coming away pinkish as it carried the dried blood with it.  Kris used the scissors to cut a section of fabric away, a circle from where the musketball had torn through and handed the sections to Ellie.  She put them side by side and shook her head.  There was a small hole there that she could not reconcile no matter how she lined up the fabric, which meant the shot had carried a fragment of the fabric with it into Adam's leg.  That was a complication that Kris did not need, but best to know now than to leave to Maya later when the time had passed and infection had set in further than she could root it out.

"Alright," Kris breathed through his nose, forcing himself calm.  "Tommy, Geoffrey, hold him down.  Tommy feed him the bottle.  As much as you can get down him.  I'd not have him awake for this if I can help it.  He's felt enough pain."

Tommy nodded and tipped the bottle to Adam's lips, tilting it back.  Blue eyes shocked open and Kris soothed him with nonsense words as Tommy tipped the bottle back a little further and rubbed at Adam's throat.  Adam's eyes soon closed again and Kris breathed easier.

"Tweezers if you will, Ellie," Kris ordered.

They were placed in his hand and Kris started in on his task.  As a sailor, it was certainly true that Kris was no stranger to blood, but never before had he had to perform such a task, and that it was Adam made the task even more daunting, but still he pressed on.  The tweezers were large, oversized for the task but Kris used them with as much skill as he could muster.  Blood and sweat and pus coated his fingers.  The musketball was tricky to grasp and at the apex of his task, it slipped and fell back into the well that it had made for itself. 

"Damn and blast it!"

Kris hesitated but tried again, gripping tighter this time.  The nose of the tweezers found the ball easily, and Kris managed to grip it again, but his grip on the tweezers was precarious.  He shifted his fingers and, damn it all to Hell, the tweezers slipped sideways.  A fresh stream of blood came from the wound and Kris just breathed. 

In and out. 

In and out. 

He felt the ball and let the tweezers close around it metal sides.  He used his other hand to steady himself, fingers forming a V around the open wound and pressing down. 

In and out. 

Steady.

His hand rose steadily, and he prayed to every saint and angel who might be listening that this was the time, that this attempt would be the one to do it.  His hand shook but Kris just clenched on the tweezers, holding them firm and finally, _finally_ , he could see the ball; black and round and shiny with Adam's blood.  He pulled it clear and left it to fall onto Ellie's outstretched hand.  She rolled it over with her finger and sighed.

"I do not see it.  You will need to cut, I think," she spoke just above a whisper.

Kris hung his head and closed his eyes.  Luck had not been on their side for a while now and why did he expect that to change.  The removal of the shot was just half the job done and now there was more to do, much more.

"A knife," Kris held out his hand, and Ellie handed him a blade. 

Kris looked up into Adam's face.  There was a line between his eyes, a crease so deep that Kris had not seen the like before.  He looked to Tommy and Tommy tipped the bottle again, making Adam take another few measures.  Kris took it back from him and poured a little over the blade.  He put the knife at the edge of the wound and pressed down.  The skin puckered and valleyed and a little pus came from the edges, but there was no fresh seep of blood.  Kris lifted the knife and apart from a red line, there was nothing.

"Tommy, your blade," Kris handed Ellie back her blunt knife and instead took Tommy's.

After dousing it in alcohol, Kris lined it up and pressed down.  This time Adam's flesh parted with sickening ease and Kris pulled it back just a bare half inch.  Pressing down on the sides, he pulled the sides of the wound apart and took the tweezers again and started his hunt.  Coloured with blood, the cotton fibres were indistinguishable from the ephemera that made up the muscle and sinew Adam's leg and Kris despaired in finding anything. 

He brushed the tweezers back and forth in the opening and every time they caught on some fibrous mass, he rejoiced only to have that joy cut short when he realised that it was nothing more than the gristle of a life lived hard.  He widened the wound a fraction more and had Ellie hold one side while he held the other.  There was something, just there at the bottom of the wound, darker than the rest and sitting in the well where the shot had sat.  Kris poked it and snagged a corner to see if this was nothing more than another false wake.  It wasn't.  It came away easily and Kris could have cried.  He pulled it clear, laying it on Adam's leg and untucking the corners so that it was to its full size.  Ellie picked it up and put it in the middle of the fabric swatch.  It fitted perfectly and the strength left Kris as relief flooded through him.

"Thank the Lord," Kris breathed.  "Thank Him."

Ellie patted him on the shoulder and handed him an already threaded needle.  Kris took it and pushed the edges of the wound closed.  The first doctor that Kris had ever assisted had told Kris that sewing a man was no different than sewing a sail.  Kris had been ten at the time and, even then, he'd called the man a damned liar. 

Years later, and with more experience than he liked under his belt, Kris still called him a liar.  Canvas was tough, it was hard to breach but once through, the needle sailed through and you could pull the stitch tight with only a little effort.  The knack to it was simple, find the grain and make your stitch there, otherwise the threads would catch and pull. 

Stitching a man, there was no knack to it.  His flesh fought the needle every inch of the way, hating it from that first prick right though until it was through the other side.  Once you went to pull the needle out, instead of releasing it gracefully, the flesh held onto it, as if now joined, it was loath to separate again.  A marriage of hate and disdain, but a marriage nonetheless.

Stitching Adam was no different.  His skin fought the very prick from the needle and from there Kris had to fight every inch of the way in an attempt to push the needle through.  Once it was through, once the silver point appeared on the other side, it was as if Adam's very flesh were trying to suck it back in.  Kris pushed on, his fingers hurting and the needle slipping as his blood covered fingers tried to keep some momentum.  The thread, black and strong, looked wrong against Adam's paler skin and Kris hated it. Four stitches might have held it, but Kris erred for six. 

It was done. 

Kris took the bottle and took another mouthful, swallowing down the burning liquid in one swallow.  He could feel it as it hit his stomach and there was one horrid moment where Kris swore that it would come straight back up. 

"What now?" Katy asked.

Kris rolled his head, easing the tension in his shoulders, "We sleep.  We wait.  And when we are rested, we travel on.  Geoffrey, when you wake, talk to the inn keeper about fresh horses.  I doubt ours will be in a fit state for a day or two.  Ellie, take Katy and make sure that she rests.  A few hours caught between mile markers is worth nothing.  The next days will be hard travel and it would be best if you got real rest while you could.  Tommy and I shall stay here and watch over Adam."

"You both need rest too," Katy insisted.

"We'll grab a few hours in the carriage tomorrow," Kris shrugged.

"But you just said..."

Kris cut her off with a hand, "I know what I said.  Riding in a carriage is like sleeping in a storm.  Once you have the knack, you can take your rest anywhere.  Tommy and I have slept in worse conditions, I'd wager."

Tommy nodded, "Aye.  Tropical storms where the boat rocks from side to side on the top of each wave are a sight worse than a few potholes.  Don't worry yourself about us, ma'am.  We'll weather it."

Katy considered for a moment but finally agreed.  Ellie led her out.

"Begging your pardon, Mister Allen," Geoffrey said, "I'll not take a room tonight.  I'll find a spot before the fire and sit down there, if you don't mind.  I've never slept well in strange beds and I'd prefer it if I could watch whoever comes into the inn in the morning.  We're not so far from Charles Towne that the news won't be here before morning."

"You're right," Kris nodded, glad of the man's forethought.  He tossed him a purse, "Take this.  Buy yourself some food and a tankard of whatever your pleasure is.  The rest, give to the innkeeper and swear him to silence about our presence here."

Geoffrey nodded, "I'll make the arrangements with the man about the horses while we're talking.  Don't you worry, sir.  I'll see us right."

Kris hadn't met the man before, but Ellie swore that he was a good man, a lifelong friend and loyal to a fault to Katy.  He’d worked in Katy’s father’s house for years, but held no affection for the man.  When he looked at Ellie though, Kris fancied that he could see a spark there.  Kris trusted Ellie without thought, always had, and as long as Ellie vouched for him, Kris would continue to trust him. 

Once the door shut, Kris sank down on the bed and put his head in his hands.  Tommy's hand fell onto his shoulder and Kris forced a smile, but it faded fast.

"Best we get him stripped and his wounds cleaned while we can," the words came heavy to Kris but Tommy nodded.

Together they pulled the breeches clear and while Kris looked him over, Tommy gathered the basin of hot water and a cloth.  Working together, they managed to get the dirt and grime of the last weeks off of him.  Bruises mottled his skin, and cuts freshly healed reopened under their efforts.  Kris had to take a needle to some of the deeper ones, but soon enough, they were done.  Kris just prayed that their work would be enough to keep him going until they reached Maya. 

Tommy found the jug of cool water on the chest of drawers and wet a cloth enough to place it on Adam's brow.  Kris pulled the covers up over him and finally sat back.

"I'll take first watch," Tommy patted Kris' shoulder.  "Lie with him, give him some of your strength."

Kris was too tired to answer and simply slipped under the sheets.  He could feel the bandages against Adam's skin, a foreign sensation that Kris hated, as he curled in close.  He spoke soft words in Adam's ear, plans for the future, a hundred thousand things that he could no longer remember as soon as they were said, and eventually he drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were filled with men in blue uniforms chasing him, nooses in their hands, but that was alright.  A man in white, a beautiful, courageous Captain sent them off with nothing more than a flash of steel.  The dream turned cold then, and the Captain disappeared.  Kris was left alone, his hands sticky with blood and his heart broken apart.

Kris woke to the mid-morning sun blazing in through the window.  Adam lay still in the bed beside him.  Tommy sat propped in a chair beside the bed, watching over them.

"How went the night?"

Tommy sat up, stretching and yawning, "Uneventful thankfully.  I changed the water and kept his brow cooled.  His fever still worries me but with your work last night, I think that he stands a fighting chance.  When we get back to _The Madness_ , Maya will work her magic and see him healed."

"How long will that take though?" Kris rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at his scalp.

"Two days hard riding to the inlet at Cape Fayre?" Tommy said as he thought.  "Maybe three with the carriage.  We'll need to change out horses a time or two, I'd think.  After that, it depends on _The Madness_ and how quickly she can make port there.  If the British are after her still, it may be longer before she can find her way safely to where we will be.  The wind, the weather.  There are a lot of factors to it."

Kris ran a hand down over Adam's arm, "Aye.  There are.  He'll make it though.  We all will.  Mark my words on that."

"We will.  The Captain is stubborn, and doubly so now that he has you at his side," Tommy smiled.  "He'll not pass up the future now you're in it."

"A kind thing to say," Kris ducked his head, a blush on his cheeks.

"Truth," Tommy answered simply.

Kris leaned in close and kissed the corner of Adam's lips, "Soon, my heart.  Soon this will all be behind us and be nought but a memory, I promise you, love, but first you need to survive.  You need to heal and live.  By the Lord God himself, if you abandon me now, I will storm the very gates of Hell itself and drag you back to life.  Do you hear me, Adam?  You know better than anyone else alive that I'm a man of my word, so best you pay heed."

Tommy's back was turned when Kris looked up and Kris was grateful for his discretion.  A knock came on the door a moment later and Tommy answered it, stepping back to allow Katy and Ellie into the room.  Both were holding trays, laden down with some of the finest smelling food that Kris had ever smelled.  His stomach growled at the smells and it was only then that he realised how long it had been since he had last eaten.  Tommy was little better.

"Thank you, ladies," Kris pulled over a table and held the chair as Katy sat.

He moved around the table to hold the chair for Ellie but she shook her head and scooped up a bowl from her tray.  It was filled halfway with a brown broth.

"The Captain needs his strength, and if those animals fed him more than scraps then I'll be surprised," she said.  "You boys help me get him sitting up and I'll try get some of this down him."

"You should eat, Ellie," Kris shook his head.  "I'll..."

Ellie fixed him with a look, "A very kind offer, Mister Allen, but tell me, how many children have you sat up with?  How many have you fed when they had not the strength to even swallow?  We'll have need of your strength, I fear, before we make the coast.  Best you eat and I'll deal with our sleeping Captain."

Kris helped Tommy to raise Adam until he was almost sitting and took a place at the table. 

"Men folk," Ellie shook her head, muttering to herself although the room was small enough that the words carried. "They'll do everything but what you tell them.  Best you heed me well, Captain.  You may have a fancy ship and an able crew, but when I say that you'll eat that is what you'll do.  I've fed bigger fools than you and I will again."

Katy hid her smile behind a handkerchief.  She cut into the meat and ate it, bite by dainty bite.  Kris watched Ellie lift spoon after spoon of broth to Adam's lips and then rub at his throat.  Before Kris had even finished a slice of his boar, the broth was half gone.  She spoke to him the whole time, but there was nothing more than silence from Adam.

"Ellie had a word with the woman who works the kitchens in the inn and persuaded her to let her cook up a broth.  She'd have preferred it to be chicken but the boar was a shame to waste, don't you think?" Katy asked.

 



 

They moved on as darkness fell.  Geoffrey had the horses readied and harnessed just as the last rays of sun fell below the horizon.  Kris and Tommy, with Geoffrey's help, loaded Adam into the carriage.  He didn't open his eyes once.  Kris ducked back to speak to the innkeeper as Katy and Ellie settled themselves into the carriage.

"Thank you for everything, sir," Kris started, pulling loose a bag of coins and picking up two sovereigns. 

"Put your money away, son," the innkeeper shook his head.  "A long time ago, an old man and his daughter saw me right when I hit some trouble.  Wouldn't take a penny for his help.  Told me that one day I'd find a way to pay it on. You've got trouble enough on your hands, I'd wager, without handing out coins that you'll need along the way.  Help a stranger in need when next you come across one.  Show him the path and put him on it.  That'll be thanks enough for me."

Kris couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

"You're a good man," Kris tucked the sovereigns away and took the man's hand instead, clasping it.  "May you have every good fortune that life can give you."

The innkeeper smiled, "It already has.  If I see any soldiers, I'll point them in the opposite direction, son.  Don't you worry.  I...  I hope your friend sees better days."

"I do too," Kris looked to the carriage.  "Thank you again, sir.  I'll keep you in my prayers."

Kris took his leave, swinging into the carriage and closing the door behind them.  Tommy sat up with Geoffrey, Kris' pistols in his crossbelt, and that meant a little more space.  Kris pulled Adam down a little, resting his head in Kris' lap as the horses kicked off.

Katy and Ellie talked quietly opposite them, but Kris just looked down at Adam and brushed his fingers through Adam's hair, working out the knots and untangling the ends.  He slept intermittently, but never for long, starting awake when the carriage hit a rut in the road.  Adam never stirred.

They stopped the next day at another inn, but in this one, the innkeeper demanded money upfront and Adam got no bed, just room in the barn along with the horses.  Kris and Ellie kept watch over him through the night.  Tommy, tired from keeping watch throughout the day and Geoffrey, tired from riding hard, both slept in the inn.  Katy argued that she could help in the barn but Kris insisted that she rest in a bed while she could. 

The bill that the innkeeper demanded in the morning was almost criminal but if it bought his silence then Kris would gladly pay it twice over.  They rode throughout the night again.  Kris took the gun watch that trip with Tommy taking the reins.  It was hard going.  As they edged closer to the sea on the coast roads, Kris saw the familiar white sails of British ships out in the deep waters. 

There was no inn that night, just an abandoned farmhouse.  There was a hole in the roof but the weather was mild enough that it didn't bother any of them.  Kris didn't sleep.  Every time he closed his eyes, white sails filled his vision and rocked him away from anything approaching restful, but perhaps that was for the best.

Adam's fever had steadily risen over the past few days.  Tommy found a stream not too far away and had brought a bucket of ice-cold water.  Kris washed Adam down, cleaning the wounds and the sweat as best he could.  The skin around the stitches was stretched tight, puffed up and angry.  The edges of the stitches were caked with greenish pus and as Kris pushed down lightly, it seeped through the wounds easily.  Kris closed his eyes and cursed.

Katy was by his side a moment later, her hand on his shoulder.  Ellie knelt down and pressed on the wounds, shaking her head.

"The infection is coming to the surface," she said.  Every word was grim.  "We need to drain it and change his bandages.  If we leave it there, it will fester and take his life with it."

Kris knew that what she was saying was true.  He'd seen it do just that before, time and again.  The merest splinter could kill a man once the pus set in.  Though, on this scale, it was a wonder that Adam still drew breath.

"Do we still have the alcohol?" Kris asked.

Katy shook Tommy, waking him and Tommy pulled the half-full bottle from his jacket pocket, handing it over without question.

"I can do it," Tommy kneeled in close beside Kris.  "You've done more than your fair share.  Take a walk, get some air."

Kris shook his head, "No.  If it were me laying there, he'd have the strength to see to my needs.  I can do no less."

"This isn't about strength," Tommy dropped his voice.  "It's about pain and suffering, and you shouldn't have to do this."

"He's my heart, Tommy.  I can't ask anyone else to do this."

Kris steeled himself and pressed down on the wounds.  The ooze came quicker now, snaking out through every stitch, through every pucker of the skin.  Kris wiped it away with the old bandages and then pressed again until it came out tinged with red, and still he pressed.  The skin was stiff and pressed down, hollowed out almost and not pushing back up.  Kris tucked the filthy bandages until the last of the clean edges were on the outside and then handed them to Tommy to add to the small fire that they had burning.  He moved on to the next cut and did the same.  Again, and again, and again until every wound was drained and empty.

Through all this, through every last agonizing moment, Adam didn't move.  He didn't make a sound.  He didn't even flinch.  It was a small mercy but one that gave Kris no comfort.  He was starting to doubt that they'd arrive on time for Maya to do more than pronounce him dead, and the thoughts were getting harder to push aside.

Kris poured a drop of alcohol on each of the cuts and wrapped them again.  Katy's petticoat was eagerly donated to provide the fresh bandages and when Kris was done, he collapsed back to sit beside Adam and hold his hand.  Kris let his fingers intertwine with Adam's and simply sat there like that until the day passed and they were ready to leave again.

Katy and Ellie dozed during the night but Kris shunned sleep again.  Anger and a soul-consuming sadness fought within him and it was all Kris could do not to let loose his tongue on the world.  He looked out the carriage window as the horses ran on.  The moon was high, proud in the sky and colouring everything with a pale glow.  The sea beyond the cliffs was dark, deep black.  Kris could see faint lights on the horizon.  Brighter than stars.  The wavering light of lanterns hanging from the rafters of the ships who hunted _The Madness_.

"So angry," a hand brushed his face and Kris almost jumped.

Adam's blue eyes were open.  They were still clouded with pain and something else, something deeper, but _they were open_.

"Adam," Kris hardly dared to breath.  "You're awake.  I thought for sure that..."

Adam's hand brushed over his lips, silencing him, "Never, love.  For you, I swear that I'll never leave.  Never willingly anyway. We have a life to live.  A life together.  I can see us now, old men still sailing until the sea claims us.  Side by side until the end."

Kris nodded.  Adam's face blurred and it took Kris a moment to realise that it was due to the tears in his eyes.  He wiped them hurriedly and sniffed them back.

"I've been so afraid," Kris admitted.  "When you wouldn't wake, I thought the worst."

Adam took Kris' hand and held it to his heart, "Feel that?  It beats for you."  Adam's eyes flick over to where Katy and Ellie sat, asleep and resting their heads on each other.  "We've promised your Katy adventure.  Where shall we head first?"

"The British shall chase us wherever we go," Kris frowned.  "I don't know where we _can_ go to escape them."

"There are places," Adam smiled, "places where none but pirates go.  The British would be struck down as soon as their sails were sighted.  Kucukada Kalesi, perhaps?  Or Île Sainte-Marie?  I've never been there.  Always meant to, but the ships between here and London were too ripe for the plucking."

"Either.  Both," Kris smiled and ran his free hand over Adam's cheek.  "Wherever we set our course though, we do it together.  I'll be beside you on deck, at your back from now on."

"Not at my back," Adam shook his head a fraction.  "At my side.  Always beside me from now on."

"I can do that," Kris felt the first tear rolling down his cheek.  Relief and hope and a thousand other emotions all caught up inside him.  "You just have to promise me that you'll never leave."

"My word, my love, my word as my bond," Adam reached out and brushed the tear away with his thumb. 

Kris caught the hand and kissed it.  Adam's lips curled into a warm smile but his eyes were flickering closed again.  Kris brushed a strand of hair away from his face and stroked his cheek.

Adam did not wake again before they reached Cape Fayre.  The wounds, fully drained just the night before were red as ever they had been and the skin burned to the touch.  Kris paced as Ellie dressed the wounds again and then took her ease at Adam’s side, singing and humming tunes to him with words that Kris could not understand.  They were of her homelands, she said, sung to children who were being courted by the angels to remind them of home and family.  They were songs to keep the souls routed to their bodies.  They were songs of love and affection.  Kris sat beside her and hummed along with her, his voice matching hers and harmonising with the music from so far away.

Tommy watched the coast with Geoffrey, but there were no sails on the horizon.  Not even the British could be seen though they had unwittingly dogged their every step up the coast.  Dawn came and went, and still there was nothing.

"They'll be here," Katy promised.

Kris, his hand to God, did not doubt that they would come, but his fear was that they would not make land before Adam's fever worsened and carried him off.  He no longer slept soundly, instead tossing and turning.  One moment tossing off the travel blankets that they piled on top of him and the next shivering with cold.  He had started speaking in his sleep, screaming at the delusions floating in the air beyond him and ordering crew that was still far out to sea.

"Make ready the cannon.  Prime the shot," Adam shook his head, "best be ready when they come for us, men. They'll not take us alive, those British bastards."

Flashes of times past and imagined futures.  Kris hurried Katy and Ellie out of the room as Adam's words turned obscene.  He reached for a ghostly Kris in his madness and, interminable minutes later, screamed his pleasure to the world. 

Kris' cheeks burned red hot as Katy came back in and made her way back over to where Kris was sitting, a cold rag in his hands.  She sat with him, one hand clutched in her own.  No words passed between them, but no words were needed, and Kris took comfort in her presence.

Night fell like a sail that was cut away from its sheets, dropping straight down to the deck below.  Kris kept a hand on Adam's chest now, as he rattled for each breath that he took. Each shuddering breath came hard and Kris prayed for an ease to Adam's suffering with every troubled inhale.  He prayed, also, that _The Madness_ would come and that they would be able to leave this hellish history behind.

Midnight came and passed, and still there was no sign of rescue, but a little after two, Tommy ran inside and started gathering up their few possessions.

Kris was on his feet in an instant, "What's wrong?  Is it the British?  Are they coming?"

Tommy smiled back, shaking his head, "Not the British, sir.  No.  It's _The Madness_.  She signalled from the head of the Cape.  Geoffrey is loosing the horses and letting them run free.  He'll push the carriage off the cliff and let it crash down below.  None will find it trace of it, but the rest of us must start moving.  It will be hard going to make it down the steps hewn into the rock."

"Is there no other way?" Kris asked.

"No, sir."

"Ropes then, and all you can find.  We'll make a harness for Adam so that we can carry him down," Kris ordered.

Tommy ran to get the ropes and Kris started to knot together a harness.  It was not elegant - far from it - but it worked.  Adam's torso was strapped to Kris' back and Tommy kept his feet elevated.  Their hands were free and by God they would need every finger they could spare.

The steps were no wider than a foot and slanted downwards.  The spray of the sea on the smooth, well travelled stone was treacherous and, time and again, Kris felt his foot slide out from under him. He moved on though, keeping his steps steady as he could.  Geoffrey took the ladies forward, stepping before them and telling them where to put their feet.  More than once, he turned just in time to catch Katy as her skirt snagged and almost sent her crashing down.

"Damn and blast and every other word that you gentlemen are allowed to use and swear blind that women can't," Katy threw up her arms in sheer frustration.  "I'll not make it down there in this contraption.  Ellie, your help."

Kris stopped, half-turning to see what was happening, and taking advantage of the momentary break.

"Miss Katherine.  You cannot!" Ellie's hand shot up to cover her mouth.

"It's them or me, Ellie, and I'm going to be damned if a collection of bone and lace keeps me from making my way down some steps," Katy's fingers were picking at the buttons of her dress already, and it was clear that if Ellie did not help, then Katy would still do her damnedest to relieve herself of her velvet skirts and heavy bone-channelled panniers.

"It's not proper," Ellie groused even as she helped.

"Better thought improper than be dead," Katy challenged and soon enough, she was standing on the step in just her undergarments, her dress sailing slowly down to the waves below.

Geoffrey handed her his long coat and Katy took it with thanks, buttoning it up as she started down the steps again.  Kris called out time to Tommy, co-ordinating their steps as the rock became much slicker.  He could see _The Madness_ below them, enticingly close, but he kept his steps slow and steady.

It took them quite a while to make their way down the steps and by the time they reached the bottom, they were sodden.  Katy's hair hung heavy around her face, but she didn't seem to even notice. 

"Ahoy, _The Madness_ ," Kris cupped his hands around his mouth as he called.

"Ahoy, the shore," Brad's voice called out, strong in reply.  "We're running out the plank now."

"Call Maya for the Captain," Kris shouted. 

Brad's hands curled around the railings as he leaned forwards.  Kris turned slightly to reveal their patient and Brad turned, shouting for Maya and Manish to come to the deck.  The men were spurred on by his cries and moments later, they were aboard _The Madness_ and safely in the wardroom. 

Brad cleared the table with a wave of his hands, maps crashing to the floor.  Samuel scurried them to one side and started to roll them up, out of the way, as Kris and Tommy laid Adam carefully down.  The ropes were cut an instant later and the weight on Kris' shoulders was gone.

"Kris, your shoulders," Katy gasped.

Kris brushed whatever it was aside and turned to check on Adam.  He was barely breathing now and pus ran freely from his wounds, staining the bandages green and yellow.

"Oh dear Lord," Maya cried as she ran into the room.  "Adam-boy, what have they done?"

She had her bag open a second later and was cutting the bandages off with one of Tommy's knives. 

"Agwe save you, child, we will see them burn for this," she muttered. 

"He was weak already, and beaten, whipped, when they brought him from their ships," Kris shook his head.  "I fear that he was given no food but scraps.  We fed him what little we could get down him.  Broths and soups, but it was an effort.  His stomach was unsettled and he kept very little down.  The rest was eaten by the fever."

"I have him now, child," she looked up at Kris.  "We'll not lose him now."

"I pray not," Kris took a seat beside the table and took Adam's hand in his, squeezing it gently to let him know that Kris sat beside him, even now.

Tinctures and potions, vials and bottles were pulled and mixed and crushed and poured down his throat.  She rubbed his throat to make him swallow as Ellie did and the concoctions disappeared. 

"That will fight the infection.  The Captain is strong," Maya nodded.  "He'll not let this beat him down."

Manish appeared.  His hands were covered in blood already but he was a welcome sight.  He wiped his hands on a towel and came to stand beside Kris. 

"Good God, man," he whispered as he poked at Kris' shoulders.  "How are you not crying out in pain?"

Kris frowned, looking up at him.  Manish lifted a reddened hand and touched it to Kris' shoulder.  The blood on it now was fresh.  Kris looked at his shoulder and shook his head.

"It's cut clear through your jacket and shirt.  What did this?  Rope?" Manish asked.  "It's split the seams and down into your skin."

"I'll be fine," Kris pushed them away.  "The Captain needs you more."

"Aye, and when fever carries you on its sharp edge too, then what shall we do?" Manish did not take Kris' refusal as an answer, but instead started to strip him.

The wounds were washed and cleaned and bandaged and Kris felt not a thing.  Maya shoved a glass into his hands and he drank, his eyes never leaving Adam, his hand holding strong to Adam's.

Ten minutes passed, twenty, and then all of a sudden, everything fell to chaos in the small room.  Adam thrashed about as if the table were on fire.  His back arched tighter than a sheet under a maelstrom, and then he crashed back down to the table.  The fingers holding Kris' own slackened and relaxed.  Kris put a hand to Adam's chest.

"Maya!  Maya, he's not breathing.  His heart.  It's stopped," Kris cried out.  Fury filled him in that one tragic second and Kris screamed.  "Adam, NO!  You promised me, goddamnit.  You swore to me that you wouldn't leave.  You lied.  You lied to me.  You cannot do this!  You made a promise and I hold you to it."

Maya's face was wet with tears and the cry from her throat was banshee loud, keening and crying. None moved.  They hardly seemed to breathe as Kris looked around.

Kris took one shuddering step, and then another, and yet another.  Katy was beside him now, holding out her arms and gathering him to her bosom.  Soft whisperings came from her but Kris could not comprehend them.  The world had just stopped turning.  It had tipped on its axis and thrown him off. 

This was not how it was supposed to end, their story.  This was not the ending that they had fought and suffered for.  This was some cruel twist of fate, some devil who decided to catch his tail in the details.  This could not be happening. 

Kris looked over his shoulder at Adam... at Adam's body, and fresh tears made their way down his cheeks.  These past few days, these past few hours, he'd prayed so hard for salvation, for an ounce of hope.  How fickle was God that took away Kris' reason for breathing just as they were rescued?  How could that be a loving God?

Maya huddled over Adam, crying and wailing, and Kris moved to her side, his hand on her back.  Would that he could make such sounds.  Would that he could scream his anger to the world like that.  Manish held her shoulders as she shook with each wracking sob. 

"Maya," Manish's voice crashed through Kris' wall of sorrow, "Maya, you need to let go."

"Leave her," Kris ordered him.  "Let her cry.  She knew him since he was a child.  She's earned the right."

"Not while there is still a chance to save him," Manish tugged at Maya's shoulders again.

Kris frowned.  Save him?  There was no chance to save him.  Adam was...  The very word caught in Kris' throat. 

It was Tommy who helped, pulling Maya from Adam and holding her close.  Manish placed his ear to Adam's chest and listened for a moment.  Kris could only watch.  When Manish stood, he put a hand on Adam's chest and pressed his fingers into the skin, walking them over Adam's breastbone.  What was this to accomplish?  Kris opened his mouth to ask just that when Manish raised his hand, clenched his fist and drove it down to thump into Adam's chest. 

Kris dived for Manish, but not before Manish did it again.  There was a crack of bone breaking but Manish was already raising his fist for a third time when Kris bowled into him, knocking him over.  Kris' fists flew before his mind sent the order.  How dare he!  Had he so little respect for Adam?  How could he?

"Check him, Maya," Manish cried out, ducking his head to protect from Kris' fists. 

Kris was lost.  His actions were no longer under his own control. Anger and rage poured out, with grief on their heels as Kris took shot after shot at Manish.

Strong arms caught Kris and tugged him from Manish.  Kris scrambled against them, fighting to get loose, but they were not inclined to let him go.  Katy stepped up before him, and Lord help him, he came within a hairsbreadth of hitting her as he flailed to get loose.  That shock calmed him a fraction.

"He lives, Kris," her words were like an angels coming from the highest Heavens, but Kris could not understand a word.  Katy held his face between her hands and looked him straight in the eye.  "He lives.  Adam lives.  He breathes.  His heart beats. Whatever Manish did, it worked."

"Adam..?" Kris blinked and looked around. 

The men behind him slowly released him and Kris crossed the few steps to where Adam lay.  He touched Adam, his hand going to Adam's heart and sure enough, there came a steady thump beneath his fingers.  Kris collapsed where he stood, all strength gone in an instant.

"He lives..."

 



 

A day and a night passed and Kris never once left Adam’s side.  They moved him to his bed shortly after Manish pronounced him fit and Kris moved with him.  Brad came to visit often, sitting with Kris and watching over Adam as he slept.  Tommy was a constant figure, and Samuel with him, both coaxing Kris to eat and drink and do the things that men do.  Kris picked at the food, not tasting anything.  Katy sat with him for a while.  Brad had found her clothes that she could wear.  It was a far cry from the fancy frocks she wore in Charles Towne but she looked well.  Archie visited too, but did not linger.  He’d been assigned to watch and had slotted into the ship’s hierarchy under Brad.  By Cook’s account, he was doing well and Kris smiled at that.

The hours passed slowly, but Kris felt that Adam was getting stronger.  There was a long course left to plot, but the winds were filling their sails and they were underway.  The tide was just turning when Adam woke for the first time, his fever gone. 

“By Hell, I feel as if I’ve been run over by a carriage,” Adam coughed and groaned as he caught his chest.  “Did I tumble the entire way down a cliff?” 

Kris took his hand but a moment later, sitting on the edge of his bed rather on the hard chair, “Adam, you’re awake.”

“Aye,” Adam looked up at him, “And the sky is blue and seagulls are a pox upon the earth.”

Kris laughed, hysterical, until tears ran down his cheeks.  Purest joy filled him up, toe to crown, and honestly, he had never been happier.

“I mean, you’re awake,” Kris tried again, the smile hurting his cheeks.

“Aye,” Adam looked at him. 

“Thank the Lord,” Kris leaned in close and kissed Adam, gently and soft, on the lips.

“Would that I weren’t doing my best impression of Maya’s pincushion,” Adam laughed, pulling Kris close, “or I’d show you what kisses like that lead to.”

Kris slapped him gently on the arm, careful around the stitches, bandages and other sundry concerns, “No joking.  I almost lost you, Adam.  You died.  You were dead.  Right through those doors, on the wardroom table.”

Adam patted his chest, frowning, “And yet, here I am.  I presume that Maya or Manish is to thank for my miraculous recovery.”

“Manish, yes,” Kris nodded.  “He brought you back from beyond.”

“Then, when next we make port, I shall ensure that he is so drunk that he cannot feel his own face,” Adam smiled.

He wasn’t healed yet.  Kris knew that, could see it in his face, but he had lost the greyish tinge that played around his features for so long and his eyes sparkled with azure again.  Kris felt his spirit lift and the weight that had been settled around his heart start to dissipate.

Adam reached out, his hand clasping Kris’ cheek, “You look so troubled, Kris.”

Kris nodded, “It’s been a hellish time.”

Adam shifted sideways, though it took great effort and raised the sheets.  Kris slid easily beneath them and curled around Adam, careful of where his hands went.  Finding unmarked skin was hard, but Adam’s warmth under his hand was reassuring.  Blood pumped steadily and his heart beat out a rhythm that kept Kris sane.  He closed his eyes, squeezing back the memories of Adam lying on the wardroom table.

“Come now, Kris, none of that,” Adam soothed.  “It’s been a troubled time, but it’s past.  No man sails in his wake.  The future is before us, an uncharted sea.  Look to the horizon, love.  That’s where we’ll be.”

Kris shook his head, “It’s not that easy, Adam.  I…”

Adam put a finger on his lips, “It is if you let it be.  We’re here.  We’re together.  What else matters?”

When it was put so succinctly, who was Kris to argue?  Maybe Adam was right? 

Kris closed his eyes again and settled down in Adam’s arms.  Adam held him close, one arm tucked around his shoulders and finally Kris slept a peaceful sleep.  No dreams came to him this time, but he could feel Adam’s solid presence beside him every instant.

It was dark again when Kris woke.  He didn’t know how long had passed but the blissful rest had been much needed.

“Morning, love,” Adam leaned in, kissing him.  “How did you sleep?”

“Better with you,” Kris smiled, returning the kiss.

“I’m glad.  The worry is gone from your eyes,” Adam brushed a finger over the skin between Kris’ eyes.  “So tell me all that happened.  Very little remains through the haze.  I remember the break out and the carriage, but then, it fades in and out.”

Kris shifted a little in the bed, sitting up and taking Adam’s head into his lap.  He combed his fingers through Adam’s hair as he started.

“We stopped that first night in a small inn.  The keeper was a nice man who…”

 



 

“So tell me,” Adam said, after a long silence, “where are we?  What’s our course?  How go we with the British now?”

Kris shrugged, “We’re still in Cape Fayre.  The British still patrol the coast to the best of my knowledge.  Brad says that we still see their sails when the light catches them just right and their lanterns during the night.”

“But you do not know?” Adam asked.

“I’ve not left your side,” Kris shook his head.  “Brad came to visit with you and to tell you what has happened in every watch since you came aboard.”

Adam shook his head, “This won’t do, Kris.  Sheltered though Cape Fayre is, we’re a sitting target.  If they catch sight of us, they’ll close us in.  There’s nought we can do that will save us if they decide to blockade the bay.  We’ll not have the chance to do anything like we managed to pull off in New Providence.  There are no coastal runs, no alternate routes to try.  The currents around here won’t allow it.  Go to Brad, please love, and lend him your knowledge.”

“I’m not sure there is much I can do,” Kris shook his head.

“Now is not the time for doubt, Kris,” Adam reached out and captured Kris’ hand.  “You have a head for tactics that not even I can hope to come close to.  You know the British.  You know how they think.  The men need you.”  He paused, looking up at Kris, “I need you.”

Kris ducked his head, not able to look at Adam.  He nodded, a little reluctant still to leave Adam’s side.

Adam took the choice from his hands with a shout, “Tommy.”

Tommy came running a moment later, opening the door without so much as a knock, “Captain?  You’re awake.  I’ll get Manish.”

“In a moment,” Adam shook his head.  “Kindly find Mister Allen some suitable clothes and tell Mister Bell that he’ll be attending him in a few minutes to confer on strategy.”

Tommy looked to Kris and smiled, “Aye sir.  It’ll be my pleasure.”

He hurried away, calling for Samuel as he went.  Within the space of a heartbeat, it seemed, Kris was standing on the mizzen deck of _The Madness_ shoulder to shoulder with Brad and shouting orders to every man jack on deck.

“Hoist those sails.  We’ll have a full head wind once we make it out of the Cape.”

“To your stations men.  The British will be watching for any sails or lanterns.  We’re going dark.  Keep everything covered and we’ll do well.”

“Gun crews to your guns.  Load and ready, and prepare to fire on our orders.”

“Tidy the topsail, man.  Do you want it cutting loose the second we break water?”

“Run the colours up.  We hide from no British bastards.”

The men scurried back and forth across the decks, jumping to when their officers shouted.  Brad, though, was a wonder.  The man who Kris had once thought nought more than a peacock was a more than capable officer.  They worked together seamlessly, covering every inch of the ship with their eyes and making sure that everything was ready for when they would inevitably face British guns.  They hadn’t spoken a word about it, but vengeance featured strongly on both their plans, and there was no man Kris would trust more at his back than Brad, save Adam.

“Draw up the anchor.”

“Helm, set a course for the port cliffs, and after that, hug the coast until we’re clear.”

“Then make for Eleuthera.”

The men stepped up, putting their backs to the task, and the anchor rose.  They were no sooner finished, than a ripple ran through the men on deck.  Kris opened his mouth to say something but Brad caught his arm, looking over towards the stairs.

There, standing tall, and with both Tommy and Manish at his back, stood Adam.  He wore his usual white shirt and breeches, with black boots upon his feet.  The men said nothing as he made his way up the steps.  It was slow progress, and he was sweating by the time he reached the railings, but the sense of relief on the deck was unmistakable.

“A moment of your time, gentlemen,” Adam called out and the men snapped to.  “Times have been less than easy for the past month and more.  We’ve regained brothers we thought were lost.  We’ve picked up some who’ve never sailed with us before but their actions allowed us to reunite.  We are one crew now, reunited and whole.  I know that there are debts that are due and vengeance to be struck, but such matters will need to wait just a while.  We must lick our wounds for a while.  Regroup and plan.  We have those amongst us now who know the British better than the British know themselves, and with their help, we will not fail,” Adam paused, looking out over the men.  “So what say you men?  Are you with me?”

The ‘Aye’ echoed off the cliffs, loud as cannon fire.

Kris smiled and looked to Brad, who smiled in return.  The British may have newer ships and bigger guns, but that was for nought.  They would fail.  They would beg for mercy before they died, on their knees and praying to a God who heeded no prayers.  For bigger guns were no match when they faced _The Madness_ and her Master.

 

 

[ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

 


	12. Epilogue: The Happiest of Ever Afters

[ _**** _ ](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/11503.html)

__**13 th May 1711  
Aboard the Madness as she takes The Retribution **   
__**3 Leagues West of Bahama Island**

Kris' fingers buried into Adam's hair as Kris kissed his lover, hard and deep, and filled with every ounce of passion he possessed from the tips of his fingers right down to the tops of his toes.  This was the last of them, the very last.   The moment was here, and already Kris was celebrating.  Adam pulled back, face flushed but the smile on his lips was unmistakably vicious.

"Be safe, love.  I'll be at your back," Adam promised, ducking in for another kiss.

Kris touched his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes, savouring the lingering tingles, the whisper soft touches of Adam's beard against his skin, "Always, my heart.  Let no man stand in our way."

Adam's hand went to his pistols, counting them and checking over their mechanisms.  Six of them, each primed and loaded, and ready for battle.  His sword, fine damask steel, hung sheathed at his waist.  Kris favoured blades, but today he held two pistols himself.

"Gun crews to the ready," Kris called out.  "She's laid low already but let's not let her catch her wind."

"Boarding parties to their station," Adam ordered, "The bastard crew won't go down easy.  Take her as you can, but remember that _the Retribution_ is the largest that the British have put to sea.  The men are challenge enough, but she carries shiny red toy soldiers.  Watch for them and if chance lets you, cut them down fast as you can.  A shot between the eyes will lay them low and keep them there."

"They'll go for the quick kill," Kris nodded, fingers curling over the railings.  "We have two things though that put us beyond them.  The first is that they fight for money.  We fight for each other, and for revenge.  They slighted us.  They took our Captain and damned near tried to kill him.  No man does that and gets away without paying the price."

The crew cheered and crowed.  Kris looked to Adam, who just stood there, lips quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile.

"The second fact," Kris cut through the cheers easily, "and in my opinion, _by far_ the most important fact.  There isn't a sailor or a soldier on these seas who can fight better than the men of _the Madness_.  _The Retribution_ picked her battles poorly.  Didn't she know that we'd hunt her, chase her and in the end, sink her?"

"Let's give her another volley and then, we'll put her from our misery," Adam rested a hand on Kris' back as he leaned forward, voice rising to a joyous shout as he fought to be heard over the cries of the men and the rush to ready for the last full round of cannon shot.

"Bradley," Kris turned to the first officer, "By your leave, I'll take the bow."

"As you wish," Brad smiled.  "I always was more drawn to the stern."

Kris raised an eyebrow, and Brad blinked.

"I knew that the very moment I made your acquaintance," Kris teased.

Brad's mouth flopped open and closed and he narrowed his eyes.  He held the expression for a whole second before Kris' snigger caught him and they were both laughing, jostling each other.  The past month had been hectic, fraught in places, but through it, Kris and Brad had found an equilibrium.  Brad was the First Officer while Kris found himself the Executive Officer.  They were equal as far as they could figure and strangely that worked for them. 

It had all been worked out while Adam slept off the effect of some of Maya's herbal concoctions with a rapier duel followed by some rather dirty sets of fisticuffs.  After they had drawn on that, they'd resorted to name calling until they had taken fits of laughter and collapsed down against each other, leaving the crew to simply look on, completely baffled.

When Adam had awoken, the whole thing had been settled, and the Captain and three of his burliest sailors had been required to coax them, and their bottle of brandy, down from the crow's nest.  Kris now considered Brad one of his closest friends and confidants.  They were almost matched in skill and Brad's argumentative nature had helped refine their plans to exact revenge on the British.  What Kris had expected to take three months was now standing on the brink of completion, and they were moments away from boarding _The Retribution_ and wreaking havoc on the great Bastion of the British Navy.

"So you take the bow, I'll take the stern and the Captain in the middle?" Brad smiled.  "Sounds like something we'll have to try next time we berth in New Providence."

"Bradley, dear Bradley," Kris sighed over-dramatically.  "With you, I'll share my rum.  I'll share my wardrobe.  I'll even share my best sword, but I'm afraid I find myself rather possessive of my Captain."

A look crossed Brad's face - sadness, heartfelt and deep - but it was gone in an instant.  Kris would never dare pity the man, but he knew that longing that wrote itself unwillingly across Brad's face and he resolved to do something to help his friend find his heart.

"Cut the sail," Adam ordered.  "Helm, bring us in close.  All men to their stations.  Muskets and rifles to the deck.  Cover where you can take a shot.  All boarding party's find your officers and make ready.  Mister Archuleta, you have the ship."

Kris double-timed it to the bow and nodded to his men.  They were eager, ready to fight and Kris could not blame them.  There was magic in the air.  Dawn was on the horizon and the morning mists were rising off the water.  Kris remembered an encounter, years ago, and smiled.  This time, _this time_ , he stood with the Master of _The Madness_ and not against him.  This time, vengeance, justice and fate all stood with them.  This time, they would rise and the British would fall.  This time.

The rope bit into Kris' wrist as he pulled it tight.  Brad was already in motion, swinging out and flying free.  Kris kicked off a second later, his feet out, heels first.  A man stood in his way but Kris sent him flying backwards to topple his mates.  Space recovered, Kris pulled his sword and set to, sending the men on to their Everafters.  They were pressed too tight to move and Kris cut them down without a second stroke. 

Kris ducked below some punches that were never going to connect and moved back past the throng of men.  He slashed one of the rigging ropes and caught it, kicking out to land on the stairs.  He could see Adam beyond, at midships, walking deep into the conflict.  He was a wonder to watch, calm and measured, and not at all inconvenienced by the men hell bent on his death, but he was a wonder to watch at another time.

Brad was engaged with the marines, cutting his swathe through them.  Kris had to make do with the sailors who were being ordered forward.  Kris could see the reluctance on their faces, but a single thought spurred on his blade.  These were the men who had held Adam captive, bare in a cage, with nothing more than a crust of bread and water that not even the rats would touch.  Flies and weevils were his only companions between the officers' 'visits'.  These were the men who had poked him through the bars and followed Admiral Byng's every order, cutting him just to make him bleed.

Killing wasn't a hard thing.  After your first hundred battles, it was nought more than duty. Stopping was the thing.  Kris lost himself in the slash and thrust of his anger, making sure that not a one of these men would ever hurt him and his again.  It was only when he saw himself facing down white that he pulled his sword up short.

Adam blinked, the haze leaving his eyes as Kris pushed aside his sword and snatched him close for a kiss.

"I'll make for the cabin," Kris gestured back towards the mizzen deck.

"I'll take the captain," Adam nodded, "and his surrender."

"Luck," Kris breathed and stole another kiss.

He bolted back towards the wardroom, kicking in the door when it wouldn't open.  The darkness caught him off guard for a moment but it was a moment too long.  Silver flashed across his vision and Kris stepped back just in time to avoid the clumsy thrust.  His sword clattered to the floor, but Kris' hands were already on his pistols.  He cocked both with a thunk-tunk and edged into the room.

The Admiral stood back from the door, his sword held out in front of him.  He moved it back and forth, tiny movements, but the sort that made Kris smile.  He'd thought himself safe.  He'd thought himself secure here behind a locked door.  How that made Kris laugh. 

Keeping an eye on the Admiral, Kris ducked down to pick up and sheath his sword before bringing both pistols to bear again.  That was just long enough for recognition to creep up on the Admiral, ambushing him from behind.

"You!" the Admiral's eyes widened as he recognised Kris.  "But you're..."

"I'm Kristopher Allen, Executive Officer, _The Madness_ , and I'll have your sword or I'll have your life," Kris smiled and levelled his guns.  "Makes no bones to me.  You took what was mine.  It's my turn to take what's yours."

"I have nothing to give but my life," the Admiral blustered, "and I'll wager that you'll not take that.  You're not a man to pull those triggers.  A month, a single month.  That's not time enough to put your career behind you.  If you spare me and work to help us retake the ship, I'll say that this was all an elaborate plan concocted to ensure that _the Madness_ sits on the bottom of the seas until Doomsday comes.  Whatever he has promised you, I'll see it doubled."

Kris could taste the lies hanging in the air, could see them flash across his eyes, but lies or truth, the Admiral's pretty words meant nothing to Kris.

He kicked the door closed behind him with a heel and stepped into the room, "From London, they sent you to deal with the pirate threat.  You targeted every ship under black flag and saw them sink.  You sank _The Madness_ , sent her to the depths, but still she sails.  What can you offer that is higher in value than that.  You say that I won't pull these triggers.  I say that the devil walks in my shadow and that he wishes to make your acquaintance." 

Kris walked closer, blinking slowly, his face cold as he could make it.  "You took my Captain and tried to tear him apart.  You expected him to fall beneath your tortures, but he still stands tall.  Even now, the captain of this ship stands struggling not to swallow the bile that rises in his throat, lest the Captain slice clean through that swallow and leave his life blood to spill across an already blood-slicked deck."

"Drop the sword," Kris ordered. 

The Admiral looked Kris in the eye and shivered, but he didn't drop the sword.  Instead he flipped it, holding it out guard first to Kris.

"You have my surrender," the Admiral whispered the words.

"I don't want your surrender," Kris ground out through gritted teeth.  "I want to see you caged and tortured.  I want you to starve.  I want you to suffer.  I want you to almost die and be brought back from the brink time and time again.  I want you out of your mind with pain and fever.  I want you to know everything that you put Adam through, and I want it to last forever."

"But you can't..." Byng straightened, the sword bouncing on his arm as he held it there.  "I have offered my surrender.  As an officer, you must take it."

"As an officer in the Navy, I would," Kris tilted his head to the side, "but I run under different colours now.  Drop your sword and make towards the door."

The Admiral started towards the door.  Just before the door, he ducked sideways and Kris shot one of the pistols into the knotted woodwork of the door frame.  The Admiral bolted upright, sword clattering to the floor.  Kris stood on the blade and with a hand, bent the blade up under his boot.  It was poor steel, pretty but pointless, and Kris kicked it back behind them.  He gestured the Admiral out the door and the man went.

Adam stood in the middle of the deck, the captain beside him offering his sword.  Kris smiled and looked around.  The fighting had died down save for one protracted battle with which Brad was still engaged.  Kris gestured the Admiral up until he stood beside the surrendered captain. 

"He promised me pretty things," Kris smiled up at Adam, "a life back being ignored by the Navy and double whatever it is that keeps me by your side."

Adam leaned in, dipping down to taste Kris' lips, "And how do you double love?"

"When we make New Providence and we can express ourselves without every man in the crew overhearing us, I shall show you," Kris promised, his arm wrapping around Adam.

"An offer I will hold you to," Adam kissed him again, teasing and strong, and with a promise hidden behind those still careful touches.

Kris looked to the men who stood before them, and then back to Adam.  The burning anger that he had felt facing the Admiral was still there, just under the surface, but behind it was something else, something fresher and clean.  Call it his soul, or his humanity, but whatever it was, it chilled him through, quenching the raging fire within.

He knew well what Adam had planned and while he knew they deserved every measure of revenge that Adam had in store for them, he found that he could not stay.  Brad joked that he was green still when it came to raids like these, and maybe he was.  Once the battle fury left, he couldn't reignite it.  The ties, so recently cut, were still fresh.  Taking the ship was one thing, but this...  This was another, and, bless him, Adam seemed to understand that.  He brushed a hand over Kris' back and let his fingers play over the small hairs at the nape of Kris' neck. 

"I'll secure the ship," Kris said, stepping back out of Adam's reach.

"Aye," Adam nodded, "I'll be there presently."

"Bring Brad with you," Kris forced a cheer that he didn't entirely feel, "He seems rather taken with his Major."

Adam turned to look, "Do you need some help finishing this man off, Mister Bell?"

"Not at all, Captain.  A moment longer and I should be done," Brad called back, picking himself up off the deck and launching a fresh attack.

"I'll not yield to the likes of you," the Major retorted.

"I'm not looking for your surrender," Brad threw back along with a flurry of blows that the Major found hard to defend.

"I wonder does he realise that his is the last fight," Kris murmured.

Adam snorted a laugh, "He'll realise soon enough when the first flames tickle his feet."

Kris nodded and made his way back to _the Madness_.  The gangplank was out and Kris stepped carefully across it.  Archie waited to greet him when he stepped onto the deck.  Kris took his report and his concerns and put _The Madness_ to rights. 

Adam returned as the sun claimed the sky and the first tickle of smoke found Kris' nostrils.  He ducked below, and, for his shame, found the claret that Adam kept in his desk.  He poured two glasses and drank one down.  He had his own refilled twice before Adam found both him and his glass. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Adam asked.

"No," Kris shook his head.

"I understand." Adam gathered him into a hug, just holding him.  "When you do..."

"You'll be here for me," Kris let his hands curl up into Adam's hair.  "I know."

"As long as you know that," Adam kissed his forehead and squeezed him closer.

He would talk to Adam.  Eventually.  Revenge had been driving him for the last month, and longer, pushing him on until the last stroke of his sword, but with the Admiral there, surrendering, it had clicked.  Lieutenant Allen was behind him now, lost to the waves and a new man stood here, held tight by the arms of his lover. 

Once before, he made the decision to put his life behind him and move on, to align himself with pirate ways and follow his heart.  The last time, disaster had followed.  The last time, circumstances had ripped them apart and Kris had stood on the very edge of the abyss, looking down at a future that involved death and disgrace.

A different feeling gripped him now.  Not fear.  Not resignation.  Kris dared to call it hope, but only in the darkest corners of his mind where none but him could see.  Fate had stumbled across his path like an inveterate drunk before and he was wont to tempt her towards them again.  Love and affection were his constant companions now and Kris was happy with that, but he was afraid to say the words out loud.  Adam knew.  Kris had told him often while he had recovered, but here, while _the Retribution_ burned to the water just a short distance away, the words would not come, but there were other ways that Kris could express those same thoughts.

Taking a breath, Kris took Adam's hand and led him towards their cabin.  Adam held the door for him as they stepped through and Kris kissed him for it.

Kisses turned to caresses and beyond that came love.  They touched and felt and swore that the angels themselves were singing out during those last few moments.  Fevered breathing and burning muscles gave way to warmth and love and Kris savoured each moment.  Each beat of Adam's heart beneath Kris' listening ear, each pulse of the skin of his throat, Kris committed them to memory, delighting in the sights and sounds of Adam just living.  A question played on his lips and when it could no longer be contained, Kris asked it.

"What next?" Kris murmured, curling into Adam's chest.

"New Providence.  Eleuthera.  Boston.  Madagascar.  The Amazon.  Donegal.  Cadiz.  The world is just a full sail away, love.  Tell me where you want to go and we'll set the course," Adam answered, his fingers tracing over Kris back.

"I find myself content," Kris trailed a finger over Adam's chest, tracing over the scars and muscles, "right here."

"Then here we will stay," Adam curled Kris closer and kissed his cheeks.

 

  


 

Sails shaken out.  Sheets pulled tight.  Pennants flicker-flying in the breeze.  Adam's hand found Kris', overlaying his as Kris turned the helm wheel.  Come high seas or low, come rough swell or trough, come any ship flying foreign colours; know this.  One thing is certain and sure, true until the Everafter.  _The Madness sails on_.

 

 

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